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varian-the-unstable-alchemist · 3 years ago

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Arrival Redo

OKAY SO

VARIANS INITAL ARRIVAL WAS STUPID

THAT DIDNT HAPPEN

THIS HAPPENED INSTEAD

ANY QUESTIONS?NO?GOOD-

HERE

Im not tagging anyone okay-

just-

here

Yes I took inspiration from several fanfictions that I liked

please don't hate me

***

Varian looked down at the ground as he walked. Papers gathered in his arms, lost in thought. Rapunzel had tasked him with making the Dungeon more hospitable for prisoners, after he told her how terrible it was down there.

Being the Royal Engineer, he didn’t have the right to refuse, but he hated working on the project. He only needed to be down there for reference point, he wasn’t the one who would be carrying out the designs (thank god), but every second he was down there was like a weight pressing down on his chest. He constantly felt like he was stuck, like he wouldn’t be able to leave, and this place would be the last he would see. Not to mention the prisoners themselves. One in particular had been making the task nearly unbearable. He tried to ignore him, but the man knew exactly how to get under his skin...

He hadn’t told Rapunzel about his discomfort. It wasn’t up to him to decide which jobs he did and didn’t take on. And she’d been busy lately anyway, even though it’d been months since Zhan Tiri’s attack, they were still rebuilding. The pressure had only increased when her parents announced that they would be retiring soon, and Rapunzel would become queen.

Varian let out a breath, it’s okay, he could do this. He’d survived prison, attempted murder, all kinds of crazy magic, kidnapping, and a demon attack. He could survive this project. Besides, it wa-

Voices cut into his thoughts. Varian paused, looking to his left at a door that was slightly ajar. He weighed his options for a moment, before curiosity got the better of him. He moved to stand next to the door, leaning in to hear what the people inside were saying.

“-ust don’t know what to do, Nigel!” Varian recognized that voice as Rapunzel’s. She sounded frustrated.

“Your majesty, you already know my opinion on the matter.” Nigel’s nasally voice sounded from inside.

“I am not firing him! He’s the best person for the job and you know it! I-I just... he seems so stressed lately, and I don’t know how to help...”

“well, I’m not quite sure how to help with that, but, there is the matter of the letters.”

“We’ve already talked about the letters.”

“Princess, with all due respect, we can’t just ignore them.”

“Yes, we can! Just because a few citizens are upset that, doesn’t mean I’m going to change something that doesn’t need changing! And I want you to make sure that Varian doesn’t hear a single word about them!”

“Your highness, I-“

Varian had heard enough. He stepped into the room. “That I don’t hear a single word about what?”

Rapunzel looked up at her, eyes wide. She was unable to find words.

“The matters of the Princess are none of your concern.” Nigel said with undisguised dislike for the teen in front of him.

“They are if they involve me.” Varian said, crossing his arms.

“Varian I...” Rapunzel started “I-I can’t tell you, but trust me when I say that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Great, so now you’re keeping things from me. Rapunzel, what is this about? What are the letters?”

“I...” she looked away, biting her lip. “...Varian, please...”

“You’re still not going to tell me?! They’re about me, aren’t they?”

Rapunzel looked away, and Varian felt his face heat in anger. He clenched his fists. “Fine! Fine, you’re not going to tell me, that’s fine.”

He turned, moving to storm towards the door.

“Varian-“ Rapunzel tried

“I’ll be in my lab.” He snapped, before slamming the door behind him.

***

Varian sat at a table at his workbench, leaned back and staring at the ceiling, letting the anger wash over him. Yes, he was being unreasonable, but he was sick and tired of being treated like a child, having things be kept from him simply because whomever was in question felt like he couldn’t handle it. Having one of the only people in the world he genuinely trusted do it...

The raccoon curled up on his chest chittered next to him, pressing his furry head into Varian’s cheek in an attempt to comfort him. The fuming boy took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, raising a gloved hand to scratch the ring-tailed bandit behind the ears. Ruddiger made a sound akin to purring in reply.

His lab was nice, to his tastes at least. It was messy, but it helped add to the personality. It’d been gifted to him along with the position of Royal Engineer.

Varian looked up at the sound of the door opening. He’d been expecting Rapunzel, and was surprised when he was met with Nigel instead. Ruddiger moved to curl around Varian’s shoulder’s protectively, narrowing his eyes at the man. The man looked around the cluttered room, distain and disgust easily visible on his face. There was a stack of paper clutched in his hand.

“What do you want?” Varian asked less than politely. He really wasn’t in the mood to bother with protocol.

Nigel moved his eyes to the teen in the chair with distaste. “You wanted to know what was in the letters, so here they are.”

He tossed the stack of papers the the ground next to Varian’s chair. Varian looked from the papers to him, puzzled.

“Wha-“

“If I’m being honest, I agree with every word they say. And, frankly I think a mutt you should follow their advice.” He turned, moving back towards the door. He paused at the doorway, looking back with his eyes narrowed and lips pulled back in a sneer. “By the way, you aren’t fooling anyone with your little drag show, young lady.”

He closed the door before Varian could spit a scathing comment. Ruddiger hissed at the closed door, tail swishing. Varian closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. This wasn’t the first time someone had purposely misgendered him. It shouldn’t effect him this much.

After a moment, he mulled over the first insult he’d used... “mutt” It left a foul taste in his mouth... dehumanizing. He guess it came from the fact that his parents had both been refugees, he wasn’t even Coronian... or, at least not in most people’s eyes. But he’d been born and raised here. To say that he was belonging to any other kingdom would feel wrong. It didn’t matter anyway. He took a deep breath and stood, walking over to the pile of paper.

Ruddiger’s ears flattened against his head, letting out an anxious trill. He pawed at Varian’s face, but Varian ignored him, looking down at the paper at the top of the stack.

“Princess Rapunzel,

As a Citizen, I have stood by all your decisions as Princess and temporary queen except for one. Your decision to pardon two of the kingdom’s most dangerous criminals is something I cannot possibly fathom. At least Cassandra has left the kingdom, but to keep the traitor Varian on staff? It’s honestly horrifying to me and several others. A dangerous criminal like him should be locked in prison or dead, kept away from yourself and your people, not gifted with a position so high in rank. I sincerely hope you take my words into account.

Wishing for the best,

A troubled citizen.”

Varian knew he should stop. He knew that nothing good could come from reading more, but he pressed on, flipping the page and reading the next.

“Varian,”

That was odd. It was addressed to him, why hadn’t he received it? Was the Princess Reading his mail?

“I don’t know what you’ve done to the royal family. Whether you’ve bewitched them or used some kind of mind game, I want you to know that you don’t have everyone fooled. If I were you, I’d turn yourself in or jump off Corona bridge before people discover your true intentions. Lord knows you deserve it after what you’ve done. We’re watching you.“

Varian pressed on. Some were signed, some weren’t (although very few had names attached), some addressed to himself, some to the Princess, a handful were even addressed to the king or queen. Some (he ones that Varian assumed were from old Corona), addressed him by his old name and called him a witch. But, despite the differing methods of explaining it, they all had the same idea; Varian was a dangerous criminal and shouldn’t be working at the castle.

When he’d finally finished reading, he sat there, numb. He closed his eyes, swallowing. He understood now why the Princess hadn’t wanted to show him. Despite acknowledging the Princess’s reasoning behind her actions, he didn’t regret reading them. Now he knew how people perceived him, now he knew that he had to be more careful.

Shakily, the ravenette stood, raising Ruddiger from where he’d been curled around Varian’s shoulders and placing him on his work chair. The small mammal trilled in worry for his human, tail swishing behind him. Varian gave his friend a small smile. (it was fake, of course, but Varian had become very skilled at making them look convincing as of late)

“It’s okay, buddy, I’m alright. I just need a minute alone... I’m going to take a walk...”

The raccoon reluctantly curled into a ball, still looking up at his human with concern as he turned, grabbed the backpack he kept with himself at all times when going out, and walked towards the door

The castle was relatively quiet, most people who usually resides here were out enjoying the beautiful day. Light filtered through the stained glass windows built into the wall. Varian had never re-adjusted to the light level of the capital. It was nicknamed the kingdom of the sun for a reason, but after the crushing darkness of the dungeon beneath his feet, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to take the brightness for granted again.

As he stepped out into the courtyard, several guards waved at him. He nervously waved back, anxiety bubbling in his chest at the sight of the uniform they wore. Eugene had given it a name... what was it? Fear of authority? That sounded right... strangely enough, Eugene was the only person in uniform that he wasn’t scared of.

He made his way through the capital, people around him going about their business. Their reactions to him were diverse, some smiled and waved, some sent glares his way, some ignored him completely. Varian kept his eyes fixed on the ground, trying to make himself small.

Eventually, he made it outside the main city. He walked across the bridge, keeping one hand on the railing. He paused in the center, eyes lingering on where he’d stood only a few months ago, looking down at the water as his form shook, trying to force himself to move forward.

He shook himself out of the memory, he was in a better place now. Sure, he still had the occasional depressive episode or panic attack, but he had been doing great considering all that had happened to him.

He stepped off the bridge, pausing a moment to decide whether he should keep going along the path or walk through the forest. He decided that the latter would be more interesting and started walking slightly to the left.

Because of Varian’s tendency to spend hours or even days locked in his room and his fascination with technology, one could guess that he wasn’t a nature person. But, in reality, the opposite was true. Varian was quite fond of the outdoors and of nature itself. He’d always been better with animals than he was with people, and a walk through the forest had always been his second favorite way to calm himself down (the first being alchemy, but even the idea itself was tiring to him at the moment). He sighed, closing his eyes and letting the sounds and feelings of the forest wash over him.

He wasn’t upset. The people who wrote the letters were justified on their feelings. He’d attacked the kingdom, tried to kill its leaders, been sent to prison, escaped with a Saporian terrorist, and taken over the kingdom. Then, in what must have seemed like the blink of an eye to them, Rapunzel had returned, completely pardoned him for everything he’d done, and been rewarded with a position of high honor. No wonder they were suspicious of him.

No, he wasn’t upset that multiple of them had told him to kill himself, or that he should be back in the prison he now hated with every fiber of his being.

He definitely wasn’t.

As for Rapunzel, he wasn’t angry at her. He knew her. She could be scarily protective when she needed to be, and she saw it as her duty to keep Varian safe. Emotionally and physically. He had no right to be angry that she’d read his mail, kept something as big as this from him, and still hadn’t fired that good-for-nothing advisor.

Since his recovery, he’d learned to keep all negative emotions under lock and key. Especially anger, now that he knew how quickly it could spiral out of control. So he knew that that definitely wasn’t what he was feeling as he walked deeper and deeper into the thickening trees.

It was precisely thirteen seconds after the teen decided that he was under no circumstances angry at Corona, its people, or its Princess, that he found himself falling.

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imherongraystairstrash · 5 years ago

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Sophideon Wedding

A/N: Thank you to the Anon that suggested this and for their kind words! I’m sorry for the delay. School and Physics are killing me at the moment but I hope you enjoy! (Anna and Christopher are next!!)

Sophie had never thought she would marry. She had definitely dreamed of it ever since she was young, but ever since she begun working in the institute, it was but a wild dream, distant and unobtainable. And yet, here she was, sitting on a chair, looking at her reflection while Tessa styled her hair into an intricate braid.

“Oh, Tessa, I’m having trouble believing this is really happening.”

“Would you like me to pinch you?” Tessa joked

“Perhaps.” Sophie said. “Tessa?”

“Hmm?”

“What if we fall out of love?”

What if he falls out of love? Sophie wanted to ask.

“Sophie, you cannot worry about such silly things. You and Gideon love each other too much to ever fall out of love”

“Yes, yes. You’re right Tessa. Of course you are. I’m just stressing over nothing.”

“Nothing indeed.”

For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of the hairbrush running through Sophie’s hair. Tessa sighed.

“What is it, Sophie?”

“Tessa, what if it’s not like I imagined it?”

“What? Marriage?” Tessa said, “It probably won’t be.”

“It won’t?” Sophie asked, her eyebrows traveling up her forehead. That was not the answer she was expecting at all.

“No. It will be so much better.” Tessa said, and squeezed Sophie in a sisterly brace.

“Now enough of all of this fretting, it causes you to age quicker.”

“Then I must look like I’m a thousand year of age.” Charlotte said, coming into the room with Cecily. “I apologize for not being able to help prepare the bride earlier.” she bent down and planted a kiss on Sophie’s cheek. “Charles would not stop fussing.”

“How did you get him to stop?” asked Tessa.

“Oh, I didn’t. I just handed him over to Will.”

In spite of her nervousness, Sophie could not help but laugh along with everyone else. Her problems didn’t seem so bad once she imagined what Will must be dealing with.

The rest of the morning was a blur. While Tessa finished Sophie’s hair, Cecily got a bottle of champagne and they toasted to Sophie’s ‘final hours of freedom’. They had spent hours helping put on Sophie’s wedding dress, which was impossible to figure out. By the time she was ready, Cecily had made them all laugh so hard with tales of her childhood with Will and Ella, that her cheeks hurt. Sophie was gasping for air, when all of a sudden Charlotte said:

“Oh, Sophie. You look so beautiful!”

“Tell Gideon to watch out because I might just steal his bride.” Cecily joked.

Tessa choked on her champagne, fanning herself with her hand as she laughed. Sophie smiled and turned around, so that she was facing the full length mirror. She sucked in air and she ran her fingers over the gold dress. All of a sudden, it felt real. She is getting married. And to the most incredible man she could ever dream of. At the thought of Gideon, it felt like there was a cord around her heart and it was being pulled taunt. She was dreading having to walk down the aisle, in front of all of those Shadowhunters. She knows what they think of her. The whispers that say it’s a shame a fine man like Gideon is marrying a scar-faced mundane like Sophie. Although she knew she should excited for the ceremony, all she really wanted to do was sleep in his arms. She wanted him to love her and for his face be the first thing she sees in the morning. She felt a blush creep up her face.

She turned around and faced her friends.

“So, am I ready?”

“Hell, no.” Cecily said as Tessa nodded solemnly and they got back to work.

...

Nooooooo no no no no no no no, no. Gideon thought as he looked around the room. Will, Gabriel and Charles were seated on the floor, staring at him while he ran around the room, looking for his shoes.

“They’re not here!”

“Calm down, Gideon. They didn’t sprout feet and just walk away.” Gabriel said.

“They wouldn’t need to.” Will said, wincing as Charles pulled a fistful of his unruly black hair. “Shoes are like foot-gloves, they would just bounce away.”

Even Charles looked confused.

“What I meant to say, was that they are not capable of going anywhere without assistance.” said Gabriel

“It doesn’t matter whether they walked away or not, all that matters is that I don’t have shoes.”

Gideon was growing restless, which was strangely out of character, since he always carried a calm demeanor. He took a breath and let it out.

“Will,” he said, “could you get one of the ladies?”

“Okay.” Will said quickly, his face scrunched up as Charles continued to pull his hair. He had finally managed to pry Charles’ hands away from his hair and turned to Gabriel, as though to hand Charles over to him. Gabriel put his hands up.

“I’m not taking that hair-yanking demon.”

Will grunted, saying something about Lightworms being ruthless before shutting the door. Gideon sat down and immediately got back on his feet and opening the door.

“Will!” he yelled.

Will turned around.

“Don’t get Sophie.”

“What?”

“When I said ‘get one of the ladies’, I meant any of them that other than Sophie. Don’t get Sophie.”

“I wasn’t planning to! Do you really think me that stupid?”

“Yes!” Gabriel called from the room.

“Shut up, Lightworm!” Will turned back to Gideon. “I’ll get Tessa or Cecily.”

“Alright.” Gideon let himself breathe.

He was going back into the room when he heard Will curse in Welsh. Over his shoulder, he saw that Charles had, once again wrapped his hand around one of Will’s curls and was yanking it hard.

...

Tessa was sitting down for the first time in what felt like ages. Her sister-in-law Cecily was hunched over Sophie, adding the final touches, when Will came in through the door. Charles had Will’s soft curls wrapped around his fist and was pulling, rather harshly, causing Will’s cheeks to turn an adorable shade of pink.

“Charlotte, your brat seems very keen on making me bald before I reach the age of twenty.” He said through clenched teeth.

“Give him here,” Charlotte said.

Will handed him over with obvious relief. Then he looked around the room, as though seeing it for the first time.

“Sophie, you look wonderful.” He said.

“Thank you, Will. Though, sadly, I cannot say the same for you.” Sophie said, looking at his hair which, thanks to Charles, was sticking out in every which way.

Will and Sophie’s friendship grew for the better after Will discovered he was not cursed anymore. There used to be a time in which Sophie couldn’t stand Will. Now they act as siblings, joking around and laughing over memories. It was strange to think that out of all of the five children Charlotte and Henry practically raised (Jem, Jessamine, Will, Sophie and Thomas) only two remained present. The thought was Jem sent a pang through Tessa’s heart.

Will laughed, locked eyes with Tessa and walked over to her. The other girls were back to gossiping when Will sat down next to her.

“Tess, could I talk with you?” He said so that only she could hear.

“Of course. What’s the matter?” She said, as she massaged Will’s head, where Charles had yanked.

He looked at the other girls and signaled her to lean closer. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered in her ear.

“Gideon has lost his shoes.”

Tessa’s eyes widened.

...

When Tessa came into the room, Gideon felt as though cold water was dropped on the back of his neck, after a very hot day. She immediately knew what to do. She forced Will to take off his shoes “You won’t need them during the ceremony” she had said. Thankfully, Will’s feet were only a little bit bigger than Gideon’s shoe size, which they fixed by putting fabric in the empty areas.

“So, am I going to be in my socks the entire time or—?”

“Just ask Henry for his, I don’t think he’ll mind. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t notice either.” said Gabriel.

“What?” Henry asked, looking up. When Will came back with Tessa and saw that Henry was there, he practically threw Charles into his arms.

“Could Will borrow your shoes for the wedding?”

“Of course! It’s not like I’ll need them.” Henry replied, smiling down at his legs.

“Thank you, Henry, but I’m not sure they will fit like a glove.” said Will eyeing Henry’s shoes.

“Why would they fit like a gloves? They’re shoes.” Henry said.

Before anyone could respond, Cecily Herondale burst into the room. She locked eyes with Gideon before speaking.

“I need you to come with me. It’s about Sophie.”

Gideon stiffened. Everybody in the room stood up, ready to help Sophie. Well, except Henry for course, but he did straighten up, which was his equivalent to standing up.

“Just Gideon.”

“Is she hurt?” Tessa asked, clearly worried.

“No, she’ll be okay.” She said as she steered Gideon to where Sophie was.

Sophie didn’t remember ever feeling this way before. It was as though, all of a sudden, she couldn’t breathe. Her hands were sweating and numb. She was trembling like a small dog. She felt cold all over. It was a though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her body. By the angel, she can’t breathe. Charlotte had a hand on her shoulder and was telling her to remain calm. She was standing up when the feeling had come, though she was now on the floor, leaving against the wall closest to the door. Her panic had subsided when she heard a knock at the door.

“Sophie?”

Sophie wanted to cry. She wanted to shrivel up and disappear. She wanted her face to not be scared, she didn’t want to walk down the aisle. Not because she didn’t want to marry Gideon, because she had never loved anyone as much as she loved him, but because she didn’t want to hear the whispers.

“Sophie, can I come in?”

“No!” She said, though it came out sounding something in between a gasp and a whisper, “It’s bad luck!”

“Sophie, I don’t care if it’s bad luck. If you need help, I will do so to the best of my ability.”

Sophie was about to argue that Charlotte and Cecily were here, only to find they were, in fact, gone, probably to give her and Gideon some space.

“It’s alright, Gideon. I’m fine now. It was nothing to worry about.”

“Soph, I’ll close my eyes, just please let me in.”

Sophie closed her eyes and nodded when she remembered that he couldn’t see her.

“Okay.”

Gideon opened the door and, sure enough, he had managed to blindfold himself with what she was sure was his cravat. He felt around the wall and Sophie couldn’t help but smile at how silly and adorable he looked.

“A little bit more to the left.” she said, helping him.

Gideon sat down beside her. She put her head on his shoulder, and he held her with both of his arms. She breathed in his lovely scent as he pressed a kiss on her head.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“It’s silly.”

“No. You do not worry about silly things, Sophie.” he paused, “Is it b— do you not wish to marry me?”

Sophie pushed away.

“No. No, Gideon of course I want to marry you. You are all I could ever dream of marrying.” Sophie’s eyes were stinging. Did Gideon truly think she did not return his feelings?

Sophie swore she felt Gideon relax beside her. He turned to her, even though he couldn’t see.

“Then what is the matter, love?”

Sophie swallowed. How could she tell Gideon about the things she hears? The whispers behind her back. The ones that say Gideon is throwing away his life. That he is further disgracing his family name by marrying a mundane, despite the fact that Sophie is an ascended shadowhunter. She couldn’t burden him with that. She looked over at Gideon, who was patiently waiting.

“Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“I have never been more sure of any decision in my life.”

“My face is ruined.”

Gideon turned her face and ran his fingers over it, until finding her scar. He kissed her left temple, the place where her horrible scar ended. He kissed a line all the way down to the other end of her scar. He kissed the corner where the scar and her mouth met, and then hovered other her lips. He gently nudged her nose with his own, as though he were asking for her permission. She leaned in and their lips met. Gideon kissed her softly, as he always did. Sophie held her hand to his face and stroked his cheek with her thumb.

“Your face is beautiful.”

“I just want you to be happy, Gideon.”

“But Sophie, I could never be happy without you.”

Sophie looked at Gideon. She wanted to see his entire face and his beautiful eyes, not some stupid cravat across his face. She held her faces up to his face and lifted the silly blindfold from his face. Gideon looked at her in surprise.

“I love you, Gideon Lightwood.”

“I love you, Sophie Collins.” He kissed her forehead.

Sophie smiled. “That’s not my last name anymore.”

“Yes, but I met and fell in love with you when you were still Sophie Collins. It was the name a whispered before I went to sleep, and for that reason I could never think of you as anything else. Besides, Sophie Ashdown does not have the same ring to it.”

“What about Sophie Lightwood?”

Gideon smiled and kissed her. “I like the way that sounds.”

“Me too.”

They sat there for a while, Sophie in Gideon’s arms, occasionally stealing small kisses. Then, all of a sudden, Gideon sat up straight, and put his hand over his eyes.

“Sophie, you didn’t want me to see you before the wedding! It’s supposed to be bad luck!”

“It’s alright, I think our love can survive a little bad luck.”

Gideon smiled, but proceeded to cover his eyes with the blind fold again. “Nonetheless, I shall leave you to finish up here. Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you are sure?”

“Yes!”

“Okay then.” He kissed her one more time, and felt his way out the door.

Sophie smiled. One day, she will tell Gideon of the whispers. Or maybe he will hear them for himself. But this was their wedding, and it was going to mark the start of the most wonderful life she could ever imagine. One that she would discover hand-in-hand with Gideon Lightwood.

#tsc #tsc fanfiction #tid fanfiction #sophideon #Sophie collins #gideon lightwood #sophie lightwood #tid #the infernal devices fanfiction #sophideon fanfic #sophideon fanfiction

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a-blue-secret · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER VI

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: mild swearing

WORD COUNT: 5k+

AN: ahahaha there's so much I want to say about this chapter, but... Taehyun, are you jealous?

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

Taehyun strode up to Beomgyu's door. He was lifting his hand to knock when Beomgyu suddenly flung it open, beaming brightly.

"Ah, my dear vizier! What brings you here?"

Taehyun felt that Beomgyu wasn't actually looking for a response to the question. His hand hovered in the air, before he clasped them behind his back and gave Beomgyu a sharp bow. "Your Greatness."

"As a matter of fact, it is wonderful that you happened to drop by. Lord Namjae wanted to hear about this alliance, and I told him that you were the one who memorised the terms, isn't that right?" Beomgyu's eyes clearly screamed 'help me'. Taehyun raised his eyebrows at the strange vulnerability.

"Indeed it is, sire," he replied. "And coincidentally, I happen to have the agreement with me. I was just going to put it into the archive, but I suppose I could bring it out to discuss if our Lord Namjae is so concerned about it."

"In that case, why don't you come in? The Lord is in my tea room right now." Beomgyu closed the door behind Taehyun, and lowered his voice. "I swear to God, Kang Taehyun, this Lord is going to be the end of me. He's so fucking annoying. Please, just get rid of him and stop him from asking questions, he's hurting my head."

Taehyun looked at him, unimpressed. "Dramatic much?"

"Bet you haven't held a three-hour debate with him. Half the time he was just rambling about the same thing over and over again," Beomgyu muttered sourly, following Taehyun as the vizier made his way to the tea room next to Beomgyu's chambers.

"Nothing I can't handle," Taehyun dismissed. "Just don't say a word. I can deal with it."

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun breathed in, and tried to exhale calmly. “As I just said, it clearly states-”

“Yes, but what does it mean?” Lord Namjae interrupted. “This is all stuff and nonsense if you can’t understand it.”

Taehyun frowned. “This is a completely simple clause, my lord.”

“For you, perhaps,” the lord sniffed. “Not all of us had the same privileged upbringing as you had.”

Beomgyu watched worriedly as a muscle jumped in Taehyun’s jaw. Lord Namjae was treading on very thin ice. Taehyun did not take kindly to people who looked down on his efforts simply because he was born into a rich life.

“Well,” Taehyun began. “If one had common sense and a little comprehension ability, you’d be able to see that the facts are stated extremely clearly. Regardless of upbringing, I am sure anyone would be able to understand.”

The lord peered at the writing again. “This ridiculous phrasing,” he muttered. “Who says things in this fancy way, anyway?”

“It is an official alliance, sir. It has to be written like this.”

Lord Namjae grumbled, holding the agreement at arm’s length, before bringing it close to analyse the writing again. Then he looked up at Beomgyu. “And you agreed to this? Without consulting anyone in your own court?”

“I talked with my vizier, and he and I both agreed that this alliance would do Gojongja no harm,” Beomgyu said smoothly. “And Sir Taehyun’s intellect is above the majority if not all of this court’s, so this decision was made in a very intelligent and sensible mindset.”

“Hm,” the lord said sceptically. “But why did you agree? And why only consult your vizier? What about the rest of your kingdom?”

Behind his back, Beomgyu clenched his hands into fists. He sighed deeply, and turned to Taehyun. “Taehyun, is there any possibility that I may be able to form my own board council?”

Lord Namjae bristled. “Some of the members of our council are from our oldest and most trustworthy families. You cannot simply expel them simply because they annoy you.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “What clan are you from, Lord Namjae? And who said they were annoying me? The members were formed by the Jinju Kang clan, after all. Perhaps it is time for a change of face.”

"Well, I say! This is why we do not have such young kings on the throne. They go around and sabotage the kingdom which had been functioning perfectly fine, until young boys come along meddling with things."

That was it. Beomgyu had had enough. "Taehyun, remind me to review the members of the Board Council, and replace members if necessary."

Taehyun's lips twitched. "Of course, sire."

Lord Namjae spluttered. "This is outrageous! Who do you think you are, going round replacing members of the council?"

"I am the King," Beomgyu replied sternly. "And you may address me in the appropriate manner. Besides, what does it matter to you? If you are descended from an ancient clan, and do not annoy me, you have no reason to worry about getting removed, do you?"

The Lord seemed to grow purple with suppressed emotion.

"Well!" Beomgyu said, clasping his hands together. "I hope the terms of the alliance are clearer to you now, my Lord. You may leave now. Have a nice day." Lord Namjae had no choice but to stand up, and was escorted out by Chan. But before he left, he turned round to glare at the young King.

"What you have done is not wise, my king. None of what you have done is wise in the slightest."

Once the door had closed behind him, Beomgyu stuck his tongue out at the door. Taehyun giggled at Beomgyu's childish action. Beomgyu, slightly surprised at Taehyun's response, turned to smile at him in shock.

"Well," Taehyun said, laughing a little. "That Lord was… something."

Beomgyu flopped down into the seat the lord had previously vacated. "You don't say. I had to deal with his annoying ass for three hours prior."

"You didn't need me though, did you?" Taehyun said, grinning slightly. "You managed to get rid of him easily enough."

Beomgyu didn't know what had caused Taehyun to suddenly be so relaxed and friendly around him, but he wasn't going to complain. He missed bantering with the younger. "Yeah well," he shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess I'm just more awesome than I thought."

Taehyun laughed.

"By the way," Beomgyu said, "could you actually remind me to review the members of the council? I'm seriously thinking of changing them." He grinned mischievously. "I might be reviewing it just to kick Lord Namjae off, but anyway."

Suddenly, Taehyun's eyes dimmed, and his face closed off. The smile slipped off his lips, mouth set into a firm line. Beomgyu blinked at his sudden transformation.

"You shouldn't have done that," Taehyun said coldly. "Provoking the Lord like that? That's petty. And he was right. That's not wise. He's a Lord, Beomgyu. He has influence over the citizens and even some other Lords." Taehyun stood up. "I'm going back to my chambers. I have business to deal with."

Beomgyu scowled. "What's wrong with you? Are you content with us staying enemies? One minute you were laughing with me, and the next you're biting my head off. Seriously, what's wrong?"

Taehyun ignored him. "Goodbye, Your Greatness." He sharply closed the door behind him, and Beomgyu glared at the painted white wood. What was up with Taehyun?

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun sharply strode back to his chambers, hands held tight behind his back. He stood in front of his door, not entering his room, and rested his forehead against the surface. Taehyun took several slow, deep breaths, eyes closed.

"Are you okay, sire?" Heesung asked.

"Yeah," Taehyun replied sarcastically, not opening his eyes. "Just fine." Heesung raised his eyebrows slightly at the stressed undertones to the vizier's voice, but didn't say anything. They were silent, but then Taehyun raised his head, opening his eyes. He waved his hand carelessly. "Seriously. I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it. Tell anyone who comes that I'm busy, okay?"

Heesung looked like he wanted to say more, but he closed his mouth and bowed. "Of course, sire."

Taehyun nodded, and stepped into his room. Inside, he took a deep breath, and walked to his desk which was still covered by papers. He didn't want to dwell on how normal it had felt to let his guard down and joke with Beomgyu, nor on how it gave him a fluttering sense of familiarity to laugh with the other, and definitely not on how Beomgyu's eyes had lit up with delight when Taehyun smiled at him. He scrunched up his eyes, blinking a few times, before mindlessly picking up a letter. Focus, he told himself. There’s no time to get sidetracked.

He shook his head, and blinked, hard, to try and get his eyes to focus. It was then that he realised he was holding the letter upside down. He sighed, turning it the right way up, as he began to read.

Soon enough, he was immersed into his work, and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

“To Lord Hyunjin,” Taehyun spoke as he wrote. “Hm… what do I want to say? Well firstly,” he mused, getting up to start pacing around the room. “Firstly, I want to say thank you. You know, for the information. But I suppose it would be important to know how he received the info, right? Actually, no,” Taehyun dismissed, waving his hand. “No, I don't need to know. He probably found out through spies, anyway. It’s no big deal how he found out.” Taehyun sat back down at the desk, tapping his fingers against the wood. “Asking what I should do with the information would be good, though. Maybe ask him to be more specific? Yeah. Yeah, I should.”

If you hadn’t noticed, Taehyun talked to himself. A lot. It was a habit he developed, and it actually helped him get his thoughts in order. Life in court meant making important decisions in a short amount of time, and he'd found that discussing his opinions aloud allowed him to think more clearly.

He muttered to himself for a few more minutes, planning out how he was going to write the letter. Then Taehyun straightened, grabbing a blank piece of parchment. He paused, thinking for a moment, before dipping his quill into the ink and began to write.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Alright, done,” Taehyun announced to no one in particular. He scanned his letter a few times, before nodding his head. “Okay. Sounds good.” He glanced at the other letters he hadn’t replied to. “Ah. What do I do about those?” He thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “Eh, whatever. I’ll send a verbal message of ‘thank you’. They’re all filled with the same nonsense anyway.” Taehyun stood up, sealing his letter to Lord Hyunjin, before opening his door.

“Hello, Heesung,” Taehyun greeted. His guard bowed in acknowledgement. “Do you know where that Aruyeonan messenger is?”

“Afraid not,” Heesung answered. “One of the other guards took them somewhere, but I’m not sure.”

“Okay. I’ll just wait for someone to pass by and ask them.”

You know how in novels and movies, every time the protagonist is looking for someone to send a message, a person coincidentally walked past at that exact moment? Taehyun expected that to happen, so he leaned against his doorframe, waiting for someone to walk past. As the minutes dragged on, however, it became clear that nobody was going to come into the hallway. Taehyun sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe.

“Guess I’m going to have to go look for someone then,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go find someone.” Heesung wordlessly followed after the vizier as they wandered around the palace, hoping to bump into anyone at all.

Wandering around one of the palace’s many gardens, Taehyun crossed paths with one of the Lords from the council. He bowed in passing, but the Lord gave him a blank, almost icy, stare. Taehyun looked back at Heesung questioningly, but the guard just shrugged. Hm. That was odd. Nevertheless, he pinned it down to the Lord being stressed and worried.

"Wait," Taehyun said, turning around. "Ah, I should have asked him." Taehyun paused, but then shrugged. "Oh well. He probably wouldn't know." They wandered around for a little longer, and found someone unfamiliar walking between two flower bushes. Heesung immediately stepped in front of Taehyun.

"Sir. That man over there is a foreigner."

Taehyun looked over. "Oh, that's the messenger guy. Don't worry. We can trust him."

Heesung frowned slightly, but let Taehyun walk past him, up to the Aruyeonan.

"Excuse me?" Taehyun said. "Would you happen to be a servant of Lord Hwang Hyunjin of the Aruyeo Kingdom?"

The boy startled, but swiftly bowed. "That would be me," he said politely. "Do you have a response?"

Taehyun handed him the letter. "That is my answer to Lord Hyunjin. As for the other Lords… tell them the Grand Vizier sends his thanks, but Gojongja is doing wonderfully without their assistance."

The messenger bowed again, taking the scroll from Taehyun. "Thank you, sir. I will be sure to deliver your response."

Taehyun wanted to say something more to indicate he had received the secret message, but found he couldn't say anything without seeming strange or weird. So instead, he nodded, and tapped the scroll in the messenger's hands. "Give my thanks to Lord Hyunjin," he said. "His letter has helped me greatly."

The messenger bowed again. "I am sure he was glad to be of service," he said. "If you do not mind, I shall be on my way now."

"Of course." Taehyun gestured down the path. "If you go through that door there, you will find yourself in our ballroom. From there, it should be relatively easy to find the palace entrance." He inclined his head. "Have a safe journey."

Taehyun watched as the messenger made his way back into the palace. He sighed. “Maybe Lord Hyunjin is right, though,” he murmured. “Should we have a revel to welcome Aruyeo?” Taehyun quickly shook his head. “No wait- nevermind. That’s not a good idea. The Lord probably didn’t mean it, right? Besides, this is only the start of the alliance. We shouldn’t rush into such things until we are full, trustworthy allies. Ah,” Taehyun remembered, turning around. “Where is that Lord Yeonjun?” He turned to Heesung. “Heesung. Do you know what room the Aruyeonan lord is staying in?”

“I do, sire.”

“Good. Should we pay him a visit?”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Hello, would Lord Yeonjun happen to be inside?” Taehyun asked the guard.

“Unfortunately not, sire,” the guard replied. “He and His Greatness have gone horse riding.”

Taehyun raised his eyebrow. “Horse riding? Together?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long has it been?”

“A few hours, I believe, sire.”

Taehyun nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.” He inclined his head, and walked away.

Heesung followed as Taehyun strode down the hallways. “Sire? Are you going to go horse riding too?”

“Obviously,” Taehyun replied. “Who’s outside my door right now?”

Heesung thought for a moment. “I believe it is Yang Jungwon, sire.”

“Okay. That’s cool. Tell Jungwon he is relieved of duty for the next few hours. You take his place. I want to go riding alone.”

“O- of course, sir. Right away.” Heesung abruptly changed direction, heading back into the palace. It was a strange order, sure, but he trusted Taehyun to be able to protect himself. Hell, they’d taken taekwondo and boxing lessons together for eight years- he’d be fine.

Taehyun continued to stride determinedly to the stables. Upon hearing that Beomgyu was out horse riding, he’d suddenly had a strange urge to go out himself. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. Upon reaching the stables, he wandered thoughtfully past the horses, thinking on which one to take. “Hmm… oh? You’re new?” Taehyun stopped in front of a pale red scaled horse. “Where’s the stable boy?” A small head popped out from a horse’s stall.

“Yes? How may I assist you, sir?”

“When did this horse come in?” Taehyun asked, pointing towards the scaled animal.

“Oh, just this morning, sir,” the boy replied. “He was found by the Aruyeonan Lord, sire. The lord was out riding, and brought him back, saying he had been found in the woods. We did a check. He’s completely safe.”

“His name?” Taehyun inquired, stroking the horse’s striped muzzle.

“Still unnamed, sire.”

“Hmm. Well, as much as I would like to get to know the new horse, I think I’ll go with my classic. Where’s Hobak?”

“In his private stall, sir.”

“Good. I’ll go saddle him.” Taehyun paused. “Hang on, I think I’ll go with something more adventurous. You, go fetch my bow and quiver. Tell them to set up my targets in the woods. I’m going to go do archery.”

The stable boy bowed, before hurrying off. Taehyun walked to Hobak, and unlocked the door. “Hello, Hobakie,” Taehyun murmured. “You up for some bareback archery?”

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“It seems the majority of the bonding we’re doing is on horseback,” Beomgyu joked as he and Yeonjun leisurely rode their horses around the fields.

“So it seems,” Yeonjun chuckled. “So. Are we going to a particular destination?”

“You should be the one telling me! You’re the one who asked me to come, after all,” Beomgyu said.

“Right, right,” Yeonjun said, laughing a little. “So, a few hours back, I went riding and found that horse. You know, that red scaly one."

"That was you?" Beomgyu said in surprise. "Wow. I saw that, when I was getting Toto. We haven't had a serpentine horse in ages. That's so cool."

Yeonjun smiled. "Yeah, so, I found him, and also this really cool clearing in the woods. I thought you might want to check it out."

Beomgyu's eyes lit up. "Oh, hell yeah! That's amazing! You remember where it is, right? Then by all means, lead the way! Come on!"

Yeonjun chuckled at Beomgyu's sudden eagerness, and picked up his pace.

"Okay, so from here, it's either left or right," Yeonjun said, slowing down at a fork in the woods. Behind him, Beomgyu chuckled.

"This is such a cliche thing," he said. "If we take the wrong path, are we going to end up in a beast's castle or something?"

"You never know," Yeonjun joked, turning around in his saddle to face Beomgyu. "We might turn into beasts ourselves." He turned back around again so he was looking forward. "But no worries. I know which way it is. Come on." Yeonjun set off down the left path, whistling a tune.

"Ooh, that's a nice song," Beomgyu commented. "What's it called?"

"Oh, I just made it up on the spot," Yeonjun said. He whistled a few more bars, cheerfully. Beomgyu sighed.

"I can't whistle," the young King confessed. "Like, I can't whistle at all. Every time I do, I just seem to be blowing air."

"Aw come on, with a little practice I'm sure you can do it."

"No, seriously, I can't." Beomgyu pursed his lips, and blew. No sound came out. "I can play the lute, I can sing, I can dance, but I can't whistle."

"What, is this like the one drawback in your entire life?" Yeonjun chuckled.

"Yeah! Everyone in court can whistle, but I can't," Beomgyu pouted sadly.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out some day, Your Greatness," Yeonjun reassured him.

Beomgyu grumbled annoyedly. "That's what everyone says. I'm twenty-five, and I've never learnt how to whistle."

"Don't fret, Your Greatness. I only learnt how to play the lute two years ago."

"How old are you?" Beomgyu asked curiously.

"Only a couple of years older than yourself."

"Right. But still, it's not fair! I've tried every whistling tactic there is, and I just can't do it."

"Could it be to do with your ability?"

Beomgyu laughed. "God, no. If anything, my ability should have made it easier." He sighed forlornly. "Perhaps it doesn't do delicateness," he said thoughtfully. Beomgyu turned to Yeonjun. "What's your ability?”

Yeonjun didn't seem to hear him, as he pointed. "Ah, here we are!"

They ducked under a few branches, and were suddenly in a little alcove, cut off from the rest of the world. Even the opening through the trees that they'd come through seemed to have disappeared. The late afternoon sun shone through the leaves, and a lone purple butterfly fluttered about the flowers.

"Wow," Beomgyu said, looking around. "It's… beautiful."

"I know right?" Yeonjun agreed, dismounting. "I found the horse here. Standing right under this birch tree." He walked over to said tree and stood under it. "Right here."

Beomgyu dismounted Toto, and wandered around the clearing, marveling at the quiet beauty of nature. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, revelling in the silence. But then, in the distance, he heard the sound of thundering hooves. His eyes opened, and he turned to Yeonjun.

"Do you hear that?" he said to the Aruyeonan, but Yeonjun was already heading towards the source of the sound.

"Woah… Beomgyu, come look at this."

"What?" Beomgyu walked over to where Yeonjun was staring out between two tree branches. "What is it– oh. It's Kang."

Taehyun was thundering through the forest on Hobak, aiming at the archery targets which had been set up on the trees. His face was determined and focused, and even from where they were Yeonjun and Beomgyu could hear the harsh sounds of the arrows hitting the target. And they could tell it was being hit straight in the bullseye.

"He's riding bareback as well," Yeonjun said in awe. His eyes followed Taehyun as he galloped past. Beomgyu rolled his eyes.

"Don't stare at him like that. It's creepy."

Yeonjun turned around to Beomgyu, smirking. "What, are you jealous?"

Beomgyu scoffed. "Of who? Kang? Why would I? I don't want you to look at me like that."

"No," Yeonjun laughed. "Are you jealous that someone else is paying attention to Taehyun?"

Beomgyu, who was walking back to Toto, tripped over a tree root. He glared back at Yeonjun. "What the fuck? Why would I be jealous of that? I'm not in love with him."

"Sure." Yeonjun walked over to Starburst.

"Seriously, I'm not," Beomgyu insisted. "We were friends, and that's it. Now we're just colleagues. I don't have romantic feelings for him."

"Of course you don't." Yeonjun checked Starburst's reins, adjusting their length.

"That's right. I don't." Beomgyu crossed his arms. "I'm not in love with Kang. Bleh."

Yeonjun looked up at Beomgyu, grinning. "I already agreed with you," he said. "Why are you still going on like that?"

"Just to drive my point home," Beomgyu replied. "Now come on. Can we go? I wanna have at least one race before dinner."

"Alright, alright," Yeonjun grinned, mounting Starbust. "I'll lead the way."

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

After riding through the woods, Taehyun felt significantly better. His steps felt lighter, and he felt the calmest he'd felt in ages. The stable boy came to take Hobak, and Taehyun bowed.

"Thank you for setting up the targets on such short notice," he said. The boy bowed.

"Anything for the King's Grand Vizier," he replied. "Would you like me to take your bow and quiver away too?"

"Yes," Taehyun said. "Oh, and you may need to have someone go take the arrows out of the targets. I don't want a bird to accidentally fly into it."

"Of course, sire."

Taehyun walked back to the palace, breathing in contentedly. He hasn't rode a horse for pleasure in ages, nor had he done archery for fun in quite a few months either. It was like a huge mound of stress had been lifted from his shoulders. At that moment, a voice called out his name, and the said huge mound of stress suddenly settled itself on Taehyun's frame again.

"Hey! Kang Taehyun!"

Taehyun closed his eyes, and turned around on his heel to smile pleasantly at Beomgyu. "Yes, Your Greatness?"

"You were riding in the woods?" Beomgyu demanded, striding up to him. Taehyun inclined his head.

"Indeed I was," he replied. He tilted his head innocently. "Why? Is there a problem with that?" He spotted Yeonjun some ways behind Beomgyu, and took note of their mud-splattered riding boots. "Oh! Did I interrupt your date?"

Beomgyu spluttered. "What? Date?? I'm not dating anyone!"

"Oh, my apologies, Your Greatness. I just assumed, since you have gone out with Lord Yeonjun an awful lot."

Beomgyu narrowed his eyes, detecting the sarcasm in Taehyun's voice. "What's wrong with you?"

Taehyun widened his already-wide eyes. "What's wrong with me? Nothing's wrong, sire!" he chirped. "Ah, Lord Yeonjun! Are you to dine with us today as well?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Yeonjun said, smiling.

"Of course not!" Taehyun beamed.

"Ah, thank you, sir," Yeonjun said, bowing. He began to take off his riding gloves. "I'll get undressed and then redressed for dinner, then. Will it be normal time?"

"Yes," Taehyun inclined his head as Yeonjun walked past him up to the palace. "You know where to find the dining room!"

Once Yeonjun was out of earshot, Taehyun's exaggerated smile dropped. He turned to Beomgyu, and inclined his head. “Well, I’ll see you at dinner. Please don’t be late.”

Beomgyu watched as Taehyun walked in back to the palace. He tilted his head, confused. “Why’s he taking the back door?” he wondered. “Ah, whatever.” He jogged ahead to catch up with Yeonjun.

“Your Greatness,” Yeonjun greeted. “Your vizier is very nice. I like him.” He frowned. “Though, he doesn’t seem to like me.”

“Kang doesn’t like anyone,” Beomgyu dismissed. “That’s just how he is.”

Yeonjun hummed. “That’s fine. I’ll win him over in no time, though.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes playfully. “Yes, with your wonderful charm and breathtaking looks,” he said.

“I’m glad you agree that they’re breathtaking,” Yeonjun joked.

“Dream on,” Beomgyu laughed. They stopped in front of Yeonjun’s door.

“Well, see you at dinner, sire.” Yeonjun bowed, and stepped inside.

As soon as the door closed, the smile on Beomgyu’s face dropped and his shoulders slumped. He really didn’t feel like dinner with Taehyun, that day. He hadn’t felt like looking at Taehyun all day, ever since the incident that followed what had happened with Lord Namjae. Beomgyu didn’t know why it bothered him so much, that Taehyun had suddenly changed how he acted. He scrunched his eyebrows and sighed. Kang wouldn’t get mad if he forfeited dinner, would he? Heck, he didn't want to eat at all. Well, he was the king. Taehyun couldn’t force him into having dinner. He nodded. Right, he was the king! He could do that. With his mind made up, he went to his chambers, determined to get an early night’s rest.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun tapped his fingers on the table. These days, it seemed he was waiting for people a lot. At that moment, Lord Yeonjun stepped into the room.

“Sir Taehyun,” he said, bowing. “His Greatness won’t be joining us today. He said he feels unwell, so he’s going to forgo eating dinner.”

Taehyun sighed, nodding. “Very well. It’ll be just you and me then.”

Yeonjun sat down in the seat, rather awkwardly. Taehyun paid him no attention and just began to eat. Yeonjun hesitantly picked up his cutlery too.

“Sir?”

Taehyun looked up, still chewing.

“Forgive me for seeming rude, but… why is it that you don’t seem to like anyone at all?”

Taehyun chewed slowly, before swallowing. “Well,” he began slowly. “You never know who you can trust.” He looked at Yeonjun. “Some people just aren’t… trustworthy.”

Yeonjun smiled blandly. “I understand that. But with people that you know, why is it that you still don’t like them?”

“You’re talking about Beomgyu, aren’t you?” Taehyun set down his cutlery. “In his case, I suppose…. Just because you know someone well doesn’t mean you like them.”

“But judging by how Beomgyu talked, you did like him for a time?”

Taehyun’s cutlery, which he’d just picked up, clattered onto his plate again. “Don’t speak of such things like that,” he said lowly. “And just because we used to be friends doesn’t mean we’re friends now. Things change.” Yeonjun nodded thoughtfully.

“That is true. What changed between the two of you?”

Taehyun dragged his finger over the rim of his glass. He contemplated throwing the crystalline object at the Aruyeonan, fingers sliding down to grip its glass stem tight. Eventually, he loosened his grip, still staring into the silver wine inside the glass. “What happened between Beomgyu and I in the past is none of your concern,” he said finally. “We were friends, but then we weren’t. And now, he is King and I his advisor.”

“You do know that the whole business of Beomgyu being King is odd, don’t you? Especially since I can gather that you two are enemies. Additionally, on the day of the Crown Handing it almost looked like you had planned to make Beomgyu king.”

Taehyun looked up sharply, but Yeonjun was just casually taking another bite out of his food. “I’m just saying that’s what it looked like,” Yeonjun said, once he noticed Taehyun’s gaze. Taehyun didn’t say anything, and continued to watch Yeonjun. His expression didn’t change, but if one looked closely they’d be able to see Taehyun clench his jaw just a little tighter, and his eyes flicker just a little.

“If you say so,” Taehyun said finally. He continued to eat, thinking. He hadn’t thought about how obvious it may have been that he was planning to make Beomgyu the king. Now he thought back, it probably did look very careful and calculated. But, no one was objecting to Beomgyu’s rule, Taehyun countered himself fiercely. Everything was fine. People didn’t care, as long as they had a king. It would be fine. He looked up at Yeonjun again, who was still shovelling in food, oblivious to how Taehyun looked like he was going through a midlife crisis. How had Yeonjun picked up on that? Why had Taehyun not thought about that, while he’d been planning? Taehyun brought his glass to his lips, face set in a troubled expression. Yeonjun’s observation had thrown him off in a way that he hadn’t thought was possible. He was the calm and collected Kang Taehyun, who didn’t blink an eye at unusual turns of events. He was prepared for everything. Taehyun took another sip, gazing at the wall worriedly. He’d been thrown off quite a lot today. First with Beomgyu, and now with Yeonjun. What was wrong with him?

#court of lies #txt fanfic #txt #taehyun #txt fluff #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #taegyu #txt taegyu #txt angst #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together

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liquorisce · 4 years ago

Text

decisions, decisions pt 2

Fandom : Bleach

Pairings : Ichihime (ft. some ichi x ishi bickering which we love around here)

Rating : T

Part 1

A/N: A few months ago I wrote a post-tybw-karakura-gang-finishes-high-school kinda thing called ‘decisions, decisions’ ft career choice discussions and orihime thinking of leaving town for uni. I wanted to write some more of that stuff and more ichihime pining obvs, so here it is. also i hate myself for not being able to participate in ichihimeweek2020, i suck, but anyway, ‘nuff with the nonsense, here’s the fic:

(ps: pls be nice to me and like/reblog/comment or whatevs and tell me what u think, ily thx)

...

It’s five minutes to two, and Ichigo fought to stifle a yawn. The menacing five hundred pages of English grammar exercises in front of him wasn’t helping.

“... Unbelievable,” he curses, slamming the book shut, much to the annoyance of his bespectacled classmate sitting across him. “Why the hell can’t they just teach us proper English in school?! I’m absolutely fucking positive that Honda-sensei didn’t mention more than three tenses in her class. And what kind of English lesson takes place in Japanese anyway?!”

“... Quit your whining, Kurosaki. Some of us are trying to study here.”

Ichigo fumed. By ‘some of us,’ Ishida was pointedly referring to just himself and the long-haired beauty sitting right opposite him, who, judging by her giggling at his outburst, welcomed his distraction. The same giggling that was contributing to the problem, contributing to Ichigo’s immense distraction since after dinner.

“You’re not even human, Ishida,” he says dismissively. “Keigo’s literally made his bed on my dad’s couch, you can hear his goddamn snores, and Mizuiro left to ‘watch the stars’ with some new girl thirty minutes ago.”

“You’re the one who invited us over to your place for an all-nighter group study session and you’re calling it quits before the sun is up? As expected, you’re weak.”

He was right, this had been Ichigo’s idea, Yuzu had offered to make them dinner and his dad had plans tonight, so they were guaranteed some peace and quiet. Despite the noise and the chaos of their group, he missed hanging out with his friends. Ever since the school had given them voluntary study holidays for the upcoming University Entrance Exams, he didn’t get to see much of everyone, as they were either studying or training for competitions. Even today, Tatsuki and Chad left after dinner because they had to get up early for practice and they had decided they wouldn’t be giving the exams anyway.

Ignoring Ishida’s pointed attempts to rile him up, he turns his attention to Orihime, who despite enjoying their banter, was more focused on the cram book in front of her.

“Inoue, how are you still so motivated and so… awake?,” he asks, exasperated. “It’s almost 2 am! And you’ve been scribbling away furiously for the last thirty minutes. What are you even studying?”

“Mouuu, you’re right. I’m not able to solve this proof anyway. Maybe I should call it a night?”

“Electromagnetism?” Ishida asks, skimming the title of the chapter, “Oh, I’ve done this one, I can explain this to you if you want.”

He doesn’t know what irritates him more, Ishida’s nerdiness, or the soft look in his eyes as he unfailingly offers to help Orihime out, as he’d been doing a lot more of late, ever since they had started studying for the entrance exams together. In fact, it’d been this way this entire evening, starting from when he took a seat right next to her at the table as if he fucking belonged there, leaning over into her notebook, whenever she needed help, his arm casually brushing against her long, silken locks, her answering smile bright and incredibly close to him, and - Ichigo forces that thought to a halt because it has him gritting his teeth. “... For God’s sake, give her a break,” -

“... Shut up, Kurosaki, not everyone is applying to study *English* in University”-

“And what exactly do you mean by that, asshole?” Ichigo snarls, with more venom than needed, because despite having had enough with Ishida’s condescending attitude towards his study choices, his recent behaviour had Ichigo prickling under his skin.

“... Err, Kurosaki-kun…” Orihime starts, because she’s used to Ichigo and Ishida arguing (they’re just being affectionate, she always insists), there’s a glint in Ichigo’s eyes that’s different.

“... Exactly what I said, some of us don’t have the luxury of skipping the math and science exams,” -

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun is right! I think my brain really can’t function anymore tonight,” Orihime declares loudly, inserting herself in between them. “Kurosaki-kun, I think I will leave now. Thank you so much for hosting us today.” She bows, her formality annoying him even more, but still throwing him off guard.

As always, Orihime’s pleasant demeanour diffused the rising tempers… somewhat. With one last glare, Ishida grudgingly agreed, “Then I guess I will take my leave as well.”

Ichigo wants to be polite and say something like, “we should do this more often,” but he’s pissed off, and couldn’t wait to be rid of Ishida’s arrogant mug, so instead he offers, “Inoue, can I walk you home?”

He doesn’t notice the faint red on her cheeks or the hesitation on her face, when she mumbles, “If it doesn’t inconvenience you.” And he’s torn again - tearing his eyes away from the pretty blush dusting her cheeks unable to stop himself from wondering bitterly if she’d let Ishida walk her home without much protest.

“Ishida lives in the other direction and it would be out of his way, so I don’t mind.”

“Well then,” Ishida says, looking at her with more fondness than Ichigo would have liked, “Your eyes are all red and puffy. Sleep well. Don’t strain yourself, okay?”

“Yes sir,” she gives him the salute, “... good night!”

“... And text me that you got home safe. This idiot can’t be trusted with anything,”-

“... for fuck’s sake, just go home already!”

“Kurosaki-kun,” she whispers, amused, as she watches Ishida walk away with a cheeky grin on his face, “you’ll wake the neighbours with your angry yelling.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck sheepishly, as their footsteps fall into place beside each other, “I’m sorry for all the swearing, I don’t know why I let Ishida under my skin so much.”

“Hmmm,” she says, “It’s kind of cute, your bickering. If this were a yaoi novel, I’d totally ship it!”

“... what the hell?!” His face is red, not just because the thought of him… and Ishida… Ew. But also because this is coming from Orihime, the last person he’d ever expect to engage in fantasies of this sort.

Giggling, she quickly switches to a more somber note. “You seemed... on edge today. Did something happen between the two of you?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that question. Truth be told, he’s barely able to understand it himself. Sure, there was the usual trading of insults that took place between the two of them, but it was different this time. His whole demeanour just pissed him off. The way he always seemed to know what Orihime was asking, the way he was always able to help her, the familiar way he spoke to her… and the revelation that they’d been studying together for weeks now!

“I don’t know,” he sighs, because he can’t even explain what he is feeling, let alone the reason behind it, “... I guess it’s just the stress of the exam.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” she whines, “I’m so thankful Ishida-kun is giving the same exams as me, and we can share practice questions and tips. I really wouldn’t be able to do this alone.”

He ignores her mention of him and the tick in his jaw in reaction. “But I don’t get it. You’re giving almost all the exams. Why?!? There’s surely no need.”

She blushes, ashamed, “I know it sounds stupid, but I really haven’t decided what I want to study in University. I figured if I just gave all of the exams, I would have more options to choose from.”

“... Come on,” -

“... And I will also prefer to go wherever I get a scholarship.”

His fist clenches, “... So you’re definitely applying outside of Karakura?”

“Yeah, although I’m not sure if there’s any point. It’s so difficult to aim for the National Universities, I’ll never get through. But the counselor says it’s worth a shot for the scholarship.”

“... I thought your aunt was helping you with tuition?”

“... Only till high school. And I cannot burden her anymore. I’ve received so much from her already.”

Ichigo doesn’t miss the way her voice wavers at the end, the guilt evident in her words. And he can’t stand it. “... Cheer up,” he says softly, playfully elbowing her. “You’re one of the smartest kids in school. Rank #2 after all the shit we went through last year! If anyone can do it you can.”

“... You think so?” she mumbles, looking up at him, her insecurities heartbreaking in the grey of her eyes.

Everything about her is so honest, it hurts him a little bit because his first thought is to say no, to talk her out of it, because the revelation is too sudden, too jarring - he can’t bear the thought of this town without her. But he nods, smiles encouragingly, because that’s just way too selfish.

Shaking his head out of these thoughts, he asks, “... what was the counselor’s recommendation, again? As a career path?”

“Ah, Hirata-san said maybe I should just follow my love for baking,” she says, smiling.

“... and? Why don’t you consider that? You wouldn’t have to give these blasted exams then.”

He liked the idea of this, now more than before, momentarily regretting his role in convincing her to apply to university. Orihime working in the local bakery, coming around his house everyday to share the leftovers, staying back for dinner maybe…

“... but Kurosaki-kun was the one who said I wouldn’t be very good at it!” She pouts, “You said I’d make too many things in weird flavours and nobody would want to buy them.”

Crap. He truly felt like waltzing back in time and whacking the past version of him for saying something like that. Because if it were anyone else shitting all over Orihime’s dream, he’d have sent the punk flying. Where were all these feelings coming from anyway?!

“... Shit, I didn’t mean,” -

“... it’s okay, you’re right. And besides I can work there part-time through University. I was thinking…” She took a deep breath. “Well, actually, it was Ishida-kun’s idea. Maybe I could study to become a doctor? My strength is in healing people anyway…”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Well of course, he'd say that. He's going to study medicine too." And of course he would try to talk Orihime into it. The bastard had taken every opportunity to slither by her side -

She laughs, a pretty sound, interrupting the profanity in his mind. "Yeah, he did say it would be nice to have some company… but I'm not sure." Sighing, she asks, "How did you decide on English Studies?"

It wasn't too difficult for him honestly. It helped that he was fairly certain he didn't want to study math or science going forward. "... I like stories. And I want to be able to read and share stories in a global medium, so I decided to study English."

He looks at her only to find her looking at him in fascination, "... Truth be told, I didn't spend too much time thinking about it. The career aptitude test returned similar results as well, so I just went with it." He shrugs, "I think I'll enjoy it. Let's see."

"Ahh, you sound so optimistic about your studies, Kurosaki-kun. I wish I could be like that."

They've reached her apartment building now and she turns to look at him, wistfully. He wishes he could do something for her, ease her anxieties in some way.

"What about you?" He asks.

She looks at him, puzzled.

"... You've told me all about what everyone wants you to do. What do you want to do? I'm sure you must have some inkling."

“... I,” she stops, opens her mouth again to say something, but nothing comes out. “... what I want… ah, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” She smiles wistfully to herself, because this wasn’t something that she’d ever admitted out loud.

He rolls his eyes, “... Try me.” Because she was many things, and yes, definitely silly sometimes in that unique way of hers, but he would never, could never, call her dreams silly. It’s a moment of realization for him, when he gets angry with the way she dismisses her own dreams that way, and he feels overwhelmed with the desire to pick them up, and keep them safe where no one can trample them, along with that spaced-out, wistful smile of hers.

“Well,” she gulps, nervous, “I’ve never really thought too much about going to university. Sensei says I’m wasting my potential... but honestly, I think I’ll be happy working.”

She looks at him unsurely, waiting for a reaction, an opinion, like everyone else. Everyone who’d been urging her to continue school and pursue all kinds of studies that she could possibly do, but… “I just - I want to build a simple life with someone I love. A family, maybe, someday.”

It comes out so fast, she wishes she could grab the words and shove them back in her mouth. She chances a glance at him, her cheeks hot and furiously embarrassed.

His expression is unreadable as he gazes down at her. She’s beautiful in the moonlight, he thinks, and it isn’t really a revelation to him, but the melancholy of her beauty is, the loneliness that he wishes he could extinguish as easily as he does hollows. “A simple life huh…” he murmurs. And he can almost picture it, Orihime, ten years from now, a child in her arms, a little boy maybe, with her wide brown eyes and -

“Well, looks like you have planned it out better than any of us,” he manages hoarsely, unable to look her in the eye anymore. Not with all these… feelings simmering so close to the surface. And before he can help himself, “Do you already know who this mystery man is?”

He’s come to realize how absolutely unequipped he is to hear the answer, but her unassuming statement has already taken residence inside him somehow, a burning sensation accompanying it.

His question jolts her into consciousness, and she notices they’re almost at her apartment. “Ah Kurosaki-kun is very curious today,” she laughs nervously, “only one confession per day! That’s the limit!” The fake cheer in her voice grates in her own ears but she hopes desperately it will steer him away because she’s this close to telling him sometimes, and this was one of those times. Especially in these rare moments when she feels an odd mixture of weakness and greed, where she wants to latch on to him and ask him to stay by her side, hoping selfishly that his kindness will make him say yes. But Orihime was practiced at hiding those feelings away.

“Is that right,” he smiles teasingly, albeit weakly, “... I didn’t know you were so mysterious, Inoue. Well goodnight, then.”

And as he watches her climb up the stairs to her floor, and then lean over the railings to wave goodbye one more time, he can’t help but think of that image of her again, happy and in love and so beautifully fulfilled. And he thinks of the shadow of the man next to her, who will protect that dream and that smile, and his stomach clenches bitterly.

“You deserve it,” he whispers to her retreating figure, “... You deserve all of it.”

- fin -

A/N : The ending was cheesy, I KNOW UGH

#ichihime #kurosaki ichigo #inoue orihime #bleach #liquorisce fanfiction

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legolaslovely · 5 years ago

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Hero

A/N: HAPPY FILI FRIDAY FRIENDS HAVE SOME FLUFF! OMG truly what a great day. This happened after watching An Unexpected Journey again and I freaked out over my baby’s safety even though I know what happens and that he’s fine in that one! Ugh. Such stress. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this story and the whole day! Whoooo! As always, everyone lives always.

Pairing: Fili x Reader

Word Count: 1,522

Warnings: SPOILERS lol you’ve all seen the movie but still, FLUFF, leetle angst for plot.

Summary: Fili comforts his wife (Y/N) when she gets upset by the stories about the dangers the dwarfs faced on the quest to reclaim Erebor.

ALSO KURDUWE = MY HEART AKA MY NEW FAVORITE WORD SQUEAL BYE (also hey! this is a photo edit I made yay!)

Supper had run long into the night. You had been sitting in your usual seat between Fili and Kili for hours now, drinking and listening to the stories of the company. It had been a few weeks since you were all able to dine together and the energy was high and the ale was flowing. You leaned back in your seat and pictured the tales you’d heard countless times, enjoying every second of it. Even Thorin was letting loose and telling stories of his few shenanigans with Dwalin when everyone lived in the Blue Mountains.

You couldn’t remember quite how many mugs of drink you’d taken yourself but you did your best to keep up with them. Whenever you laughed extra hard or asked about a detail of some fudged story, Fili’s fingers would brush over yours and squeeze them. You even caught him staring a few times and it shot excitement and desire into your stomach. You knew that look of his well and could only imagine what he had in store for you when you returned to your shared chambers.

‘Well, at least I wasn’t reduced to throwing burning pine cones at him!” Dwalin bellowed over the table in answer to Thorin’s teasing. “Remember that, eh?”

Kili groaned but held a bright grin on his face. “Yes, Dwalin, we remember. Even (Y/N) knows the story so well she could tell it herself.” He slung an arm around you and you laughed even though you hated that story. It never failed to send your gut into your throat. You sighed, knowing what was coming.

“Forced up into the trees, no less!” Dwalin went on.

You looked down and watched Fili’s thumb run over your knuckles as he held your hand tightly. Your gazes met and you couldn’t help but smile at his blue eyes that were shining with the late hour and the many drinks.

“Hey! (Y/N)! I’m tellin’ ya a story!” Dwalin’s cry made your head spin around to him.

“I’m so sorry. Please, go on.” You did a pretty good job of hiding your chuckle until Kili shot you a look with a roll of his eyes.

“So, there we are,” Dwalin said, “Climbin’ the trees like ladders- and let me tell you, I can make a good ladder-”

“Best ladders in all of Erebor!” Thorin said with his drink raised high in the air. Cheers followed and Dwalin grumbled over them.

Dwalin stood, slamming his hand on the table to silence the crowd. Then he held his mug out in front of him. “And we can see ‘em comin’. They’re running like a giant’s on their tail and they’re headed straight fer us. Ori, here, he’s pissin’ his trousers-”

“I was not!” Ori cried. He looked to you in desperation over the commotion that followed. “I did not!”

You reached over the table to him. “I believe you, Ori. Let Dwalin have his fun, hm?”

Ori slunk back in his seat and you chuckled, again turning your attention to the other head of the table. Everyone grew quiet again, knowing what was coming, but wanting to hear it from Dwalin again like a bunch of dwarflings sitting at his feet.

“We’re stuck in the trees, every last one of us, with no place left to go. Can’t reach ‘em with our swords or axes, we can only wait until they come to us. The nasty demon wargs are snarlin’ and snappin’ at us, waiting for their command when out of the trees comes the devil himself. I couldna believe me eyes. Azog was alive and he was after blood, he was. Thought Thorin was gonna shit his trousers.”

All laughed at that, but you couldn’t get a smile to crack your stern countenance. You’d heard the stories over and over about how many times the company cheated death on their quest to Erebor and most of them you could handle by now but this one sent your stomach bubbling every time you were forced to listen to it. Your jaw clenched and you stared at Fili’s hand completely enveloping yours and you tried hard to distance yourself from the story and swallow the lump growing in your throat.

Dwalin’s fist slamming the table made you jump. “’Bring me their heads! Drink their blood!’ And then they were after us. Bitin’ off the branches below with their huge teeth. The size of Glamdring, their teeth were!” There was some argument to that, but he continued. “Tree after tree fallin’ so we had to jump to the next one and pray we caught a branch unless we fell right into their jaws. Gloin, he almost fell right down to the ground, but I caught him and threw ‘im with all my might to the last tree in the row! Don’t lie, Gloin, you know it’s true!” Dwalin leaned his hands on the table and lowered his voice, making everyone else creep in. “Every last one of us on that last wee little tree and BOOM! It falls and holds to the ground by one root! And we’re all hangin’ over the damn cliff waitin’ for the wargs to come and snatch us off one by one!”

You sucked in a breath and turned to Fili. “I’m tired, amrâlimê.” You whispered under the story telling. “I’m going to bed, but you stay here and have your fun.” You smiled, took his chin in your fingers and kissed his lips before sneaking out of your seat.

“Don’t leave now!” Thorin yelled to you, but you waved him off.

“You’re gonna miss the best part! Your husband there, he threw the first pine cone!” Dwalin bellowed.

“Oh, I know all about Fili’s heroics,” you said, barely turning to them to hide the tears stuck in your eyes. You thanked Mahal your voice sounded strong and unaffected by your emotion. “Good night, all.”

They called their answer to you and you hurried out of the hall before you heard any more of the story. The moment you reached the corridor, you felt your tears finally fall down your face and you wiped them away with a huffed groan. How ridiculous were you being? They’re all fine! You knew how the story ended. But knowing they were in that much danger-

Your eyes flew open when you felt warm hands on your cheeks. Fili stood before you and kissed your forehead. You sighed. “You weren’t supposed to follow me.”

“How could I not when I know you’re upset, kurduwê?” he said.

You ran your hands over his sides and rested them on either side of his waist. “I’m being absurd! But I just-I cannot listen to those stories, Fili.”

“It’s all right,” he whispered, swiping his thumbs over your cheekbones. “I know that. And Dwalin knows it as well when he hasn’t been guzzling ale for hours on end.”

“He’s proud of what you accomplished. As he should be! And as I am. But knowing that you were in so much danger… And Kili as well- all of them, I’ll never be able to joke about such things. And I have enough to fuel my nightmares without picturing it all over again.” You sniffed, feeling more tears tug at your chest and Fili pulled you close to him and wrapped his arms tight around you. Your voice caught in your throat. “It hurts, amrâlimê. I don’t know any other way to explain the feeling.” You tried to hold in a sob but it found its way out anyway.

His fingers ran through your hair and he placed countless soft kisses on your temple as he held you close. When your breathing slowed, he said, “I don’t like hearing the stories either.”

“No?”

“Nothing seems heroic or glorious when you think you’re about to die. It’s terrifying. I don’t like reliving those moments or hearing the tales grow tall and untrue.”

“Are you telling me that Dwalin didn’t actually throw Gloin a hundred feet in the air?” you asked.

Fili laughed and you reveled in the sound and the feeling of it rolling through his chest under your hands. He leaned to your lips and kissed you, and then led you through the corridors with a hand around your waist. “Let’s go to bed, kurduwê. Where we’re both safe, hm?”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Yes, please. I can’t wait to slide into bed and fall asleep until midday tomorrow,” you chuckled.

You felt Fili nose your neck. “And what if I have other plans for you?” he growled in your ear.

“What kind of plans?” you asked, spinning out of his arms and sloping against the door to your chambers when you reached it. His eyes had grown dark as he stared at you and bent to kiss your neck.

“You know exactly what kind of plans,” he said.

You giggled and ran inside, squealing when he swatted at your bottom under your skirts. “Hey!”

“What? I threw the first pine cone! Don’t I deserve a handful every now and then?”

“Get in here, hero,” you said, watching him close the door behind him.

Taglist! Message to join! @emrfangirl @misslongcep @raindancer2004 @ladybugg1235 @xxbyimm @burningcoffeetimetravel @fizzyxcustard @fire-flv

Tagging those who may enjoy! If you don’t want to be tagged, that’s okay! Let me know. @deepestfirefun @teagarages @therealpamdiaz

#fili #fili x reader #fili fluff #fili angst #fili comfort #fili friday #the hobbit #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #lotr fantic #lotr fanfiction #dean o'gorman #dean ogorman #dean o'gorman x reader

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saultnpeppah · 5 years ago

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Day 5: Because I Can

I've grown tired of waiting for Bruce's answer, and looking at his face, hard and focused, I now realize he doesn't have one. I knew Bruce when we decided to pursue this relationship. I thought I could handle it, but this has become too much. Being a hero is all I know, but with Bruce, being the Batman is all he can know. Gotham comes first. The mission comes first. I thought I understood this, but the way I feel now, I realize I don't.

I let out a sigh and drop my head. My fingers find the bridge to my nose and gently pinch it as I feel the beginnings of a headache start to form. "I can't do this," I find myself whispering.

"Do what?" Bruce asks.

I raise my head and let my eyes meet Bruce's. "I don't know what you want from me. One minute we're fine, the next you don't want to talk to me. I'm getting whiplash from your mood swings," I admit. I watch as he presses his lips tighter. The muscles near his lips twitch and I can see he is trying his hardest not to respond to what I've just said. "I think we need to end this," I say.

He watches in silence. He doesn't make any attempt to agree or disagree with me. He only unlatches his utility belt, pulls it from his waist, and lays it on the table behind him. His eyes avoid mine as he pulls the gloves from his hand and lays them beside the utility belt. I know I will get nowhere with this conversation. Bruce is stubborn, and prideful; it took him years to admit he had any sort of feelings for me, it's going to be nearly impossible to get him to admit to anything more.

Without another word, I turn away from Bruce and take a step towards the stairs that'll take me up to the manor, away from Bruce and his silence. The soft thud my boots make on the floor of the cave echo throughout the dark space, and my shoulders involuntarily shudder.

"You're being irrational."

I stop in my tracks and my shoulders tense at the sound of Bruce's voice. He takes a step towards me and places a hand high on my arm. "Diana," he says.

I don't give him a chance to say anything further. I gently pull his hand from my arm and turn to face him, silencing him with my index finger. "Don't," I say.

I take another step back. "We need to talk," he says, causing me to shake my head. He is unbelievable. I have begged Bruce to sit and talk about our relationship for years, and of all times, he chooses now. But it's too late. He's made his decision. He's told me everything I need to know.

"We should've talked long ago," I say to him as I cross my arms over my chest, letting him know it is my turn to build a wall around my heart. "You've finally pushed me away, Bruce," I say, inching towards the staircase once more. "You were hesitant, you didn't want this relationship to begin with, so I'll leave you alone. We can forget this ever happened."

I continue to step toward the staircase, toward my only means of escaping this emotional hell I am forcing on myself. I don't want this to be the end with Bruce, but I cannot continue to force myself to give a hundred and ten percent into a relationship when he struggles to lay his heart on the line.

I can hear Bruce's heavy steps behind me as he inches toward me. "Diana," he says as he places a hand on my shoulder. He gently turns me around, forcing me to look at him. I only shake my head, telling him anything further he has to say will be pointless. He only lets out a sigh and whispers, "Why must you be so stubborn," under his breath.

Without thinking my fingers quickly curl into a fist, and before I know what I am doing, my fist makes contact with Bruce's chest. He stumbles back, letting go of my shoulder as his hand clenches his chest. My eyes widen as I realize I have used more strength than I had intended. I had only wanted to get him away from me, gain some distance so I could leave in silence, but this man knows how to push my buttons more than I care to admit.

I watch as he takes a deep breath and I am grateful to see that I haven't done any permanent damage. "Why?" he asks, his hand still on his chest. His eyes roam over my face and I furrow my eyebrows in an attempt to keep myself from crying. "Why are you leaving?"

"Because I can," is all that escapes my lips before I am climbing up the stairs into the manor, shutting myself away from Bruce and the happiness I once found.

The music continues to fill my ears and although I can't think of a good reason why, I smile. Few things have brought a smile to my face within the last two weeks, however seeing one of your best friends dancing with his arms around the woman he can now call his wife seemed like a good start.

I watch as Clark and Lois sway to the music that fills the room. The gentle bass keeps the slow tempo as other couples begin to join the two on the dance floor. To the right stands Jimmy, watching over the shoulder of the photographer, whispering comments on how to get a better photo. It's his passion, and even though the annoyance on the photographer's face is clear as day, Jimmy won't give up until he snaps at least one picture.

In the corner is Lucy. She watches her sister as she dances with her new husband, a smile on her face as she thinks of their parents; her father would have loved to see this day.

Clark's mother sits at her table, quietly watching as her son leans in to kiss his wife. Her lips are curled into a wide smile that I'm sure even J'onn would be able to see from the Watchtower. Her son's happiness is all she has ever wanted, and seeing him today, seeing him with Lois, she knows he is truly happy.

My eyes continue to glance over the room as my hand finds the glass containing the cocktail I have been nursing for over forty minutes. I raise the glass to my lips, carefully taking a sip, careful not to let any of the condensation that has started to build on the glass fall onto my dress.

"You've been avoiding me."

My hand freezes and I nearly spill some of my drink. Of course I had been avoiding him. I had been avoiding him for two weeks, and quite well I might add.

Bruce takes a seat at the bar next to me. I can feel his stare burning holes into the side of my head. I want nothing more than to disappear, but I know it's useless. Bruce is stubborn. He will find me, and as much as I don't want to be near him, I don't want him chased by countless Amazons if he tries to follow me to Themyscira.

I turn to Bruce and realize his blue eyes are still staring at me, waiting for me to acknowledge his statement. "I've been busy," is all I say, before I down the last of the cocktail in my hand. I gently place the glass full of ice back on the bar and absentmindedly drag my finger along the edge of it, trying to busy my mind enough to be distracted from Bruce. I may be angry with the man, but the sight of him still makes my heart flutter.

"I know," he says. He raises his hand to flag down the bartender and offers the man a small smile. "I've seen your mission logs," he confesses. My eyes turn from my glass and lock with his once more. I can see how tired he is, how much he has been stressing himself; no rest for the Batman, I'm afraid. "You've been purposefully switching your missions with Shayera and Dinah," he accuses, "And I know you've been talking to J'onn about switching your monitor duty days." He ceases his conversation when the bartender comes over and places a glass of scotch in front of him and a glass of wine in front of me.

"Anything else, Mr. Wayne?" he asks.

Bruce only shakes his head. "That's all, thank you," he replies, placing a few bills onto the bar. The bartender only nods his head and turns his focus towards his other patrons. Bruce waits until the bartender is no longer within ear shot before he raises his glass and takes a sip of his beverage, before he asks, "Why are you avoiding me?"

I take a glance at the wine and gently grab the glass. I lift it to my nose and take a small sniff, unable to help the smirk that forms on my face when I realize Bruce has stashed a bottle of my favorite wine. "Why did you buy me a drink?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

Bruce's eyes narrow as he takes another sip of his scotch. He watches me over his glass as I take a sip from my own glass. "Because I can," is his response. He watches as I pull the glass from my lips. Every instinct I have wants me to kick him in his shin for his response, but I know better. "Now, are you going to tell me why you've been avoiding me?" he asks.

I only shrug. "Because I can," I say with a smirk. I watch as Bruce does a double take, before he shakes his head and lets out a chuckle, gently placing his glass on the bar. We sit in comfortable silence, both watching the couples dancing to a more upbeat song. Clark glances our way and offers us both a thumbs up before he takes a seat next to his mother and kisses her cheek. Bruce places his hand on the back of my chair and it almost feels like old times, when we were able to be in the same room without me being hurt. When I was able to call Bruce my best friend, thinking he could never hurt me the way that he had. His fingers gently caress my back and although I know I should tell him to stop, I won't, because as much as I've tried to convince myself I don't need him, I'm still in love with him.

@fyeahwonderbat sorry this is late....again

#wonderbat #fanfiction #wonderbatkeyphrases

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overheardatthecontinental · 5 years ago

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Trope challenge JohnxHelen

Prompt: I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

Some days didn’t end. This one certainly wasn’t about to anytime soon. In fact, it had successfully earned a spot in Helen’s top three bad days of all time and I once lived in a house with twelve girls and two bathrooms.

Jesus.

I run my fingers through my hair, the stress seeping through me. I slam my fist against the door, fully aware that it will do me no good. I fucked up. I massively fucked up.

I had been in such a hurry to make it to my new job on time after oversleeping that I had grabbed the wrong keys. Rather than my new little house that I had scraped enough together to set a downpayment for, I had grabbed the keys to my old apartment out of habit.

I set my head against my door, eyes closed as the rain pours just feet away. Between the hectic and overwhelming first day at work and the lack of a vehicle, I’m ready to pass out and not wake up. I’m already soaked from the mile it took to walk back from the bus stop.

But I can’t get inside.

I loop around the house in a last, desperate plea to the universe to have had past me leave a window open. No such luck.

“Fuck!” I scream, coming back around to the front.

I’m in the rain now. There is no point in seeking shelter as I am soaked to the bone.

I rub my temple.

I’m locked out.

I haven’t made a spare set of keys.

My best hope was the realtor office in New York City, which was thirty minutes by car, much longer by bus.

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. I still have the number of the realtor saved but as I turn the phone on, I am only met with a blank screen. I click it on again. Nothing.

“No, no, no.” I half-sob, trying a hard restart. Nothing.

Water damage. That was the only explanation. I hadn’t protected it and the poor phone hadn’t stood a chance in this utter downpour. I couldn’t even check the bus schedule or call for a taxi to take me to the train station.

I close my eyes and count to ten, even as my body shakes in the cold.

Radical acceptance, I remind myself. I preach it every day to kids I have worked with. Some things are beyond my control. I cannot change the circumstance. I can only accept them and move on.

God, no wonder my kids thought I was nuts.

How the hell was I supposed to accept this?

I don’t know when the next bus is coming but my only other choice is to break a window. And I can’t afford to fix that, not yet.

No point in wasting time. I walk to the end of my driveway. I chose the house because it was affordable. Partially because of its size, and partially because it’s in the middle of nowhere.

The realtor had told me that there were no neighbors close by. There were a few closer to town down by the bus stop but I had been warned that the homes were gang affiliated. The other was a man about half a mile up the road. I hadn’t met him and the realtor told me not to expect to. The old owners had lived at the house for six years and they had never spoken a word.

I like the road itself. On a bright day, it’s peaceful. You can almost forget how nearby Jersey City is just listening to the birds chirping and the quiet rustle of the trees. Today, though, it seemed unending.

I see headlights on the trees before I see the car. It's small and black and must belong to the man up the street. No one else comes this way.

The car slows down and pulls off to the side, coming to a stop ten feet ahead of me.

The door opens and a man steps out. “Need a ride?”

He’s tall and handsome. Dark hair down to his shoulders with a beard to match. He was wearing a three-piece suit. He doesn’t seem to mind that its being quickly drenched in the downpour.

I shake my head, “Just going to the bus station.”

“The bus doesn’t come back around until nine tonight.” That’s what I was afraid of. “Are you the new owner of the little blue house?”

I nod.

“Where are you trying to get to.”

“New York.”

He nods, assessing the situation. “Why don’t you go home and change and I’ll drive you to the train station?”

Fuck, I really don’t want to have to admit this to myself let alone the attractive neighbor.

“It’s okay.” I tell him, “I’m fine with walking."

"And waiting in the rain? At least let me take you back home so you can dry off and wait there."

"I'm locked out," I say, and I'm suddenly desperate to explain myself to this stranger. "I grabbed the wrong keys and my phone is water damaged and I sold my fucking car to get enough money for a downpayment on the house."

He nods, "is there a set of keys in New York?"

I shrug, "it's where the realtor is. It's my best shot at getting in."

"I live a mile up the road. Why don't you come with me, get dried off. We can look up to see if the realtor is even open this late."

"I…" it's far too much to ask a stranger, "I can't ask you-"

"You're not asking. I'm offering. Please."

The rain was pouring down around us. Two minutes to help a stranger and he was as soaked as I was.

I bite my lip, "are you sure?"

He nods and motions towards the passenger door.

I notice the logo on the car as I get closer. He's driving a Mustang.

Fuck.

I open the door and he climbs back in. The seats are leather and I can't imagine what sitting on them soaked will do.

"Don't give a damn about the seats." He says, "come on."

I slide in and he turns the heat up. I only notice now just how fucking cold I am.

He starts the car. I wrap my arms around my middle and clench my jaw to try and stop the chattering of my teeth.

“Thank you,” I say as he drives us up the road.

He nods. “I’m John.”

“Helen,” I reply. “I, uh, obviously just moved in.”

The corner of John’s mouth twitches. “You work in New York?”

“Jersey City. I’m a social worker.”

The twitch becomes a smirk. “That’s a place that needs it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Not only was my new place of employment massively understaffed, but the entire city was also lacking enough social workers to reach all the adolescents in need of support.

He drives through an open white gate and his house comes into view. Christ. It’s modern. Sleek. A mansion in its own right, sloped and slated. I can’t even imagine what he must do. He taps a button attached to his sun visor and the first of a four garage spots opens. He pulls in and I see no other cars.

He puts the car into park and climbs out easily. I unbuckle my belt and follow. Everything is white. Pristine. I’m almost afraid to step on the floor but I am more afraid to make him wait. I hurry after him as he walks up to the door.

We come up into a huge living room.

“I have a shower upstairs you can use. Warm up.”

“Please.”

We go up another set of stairs. There’s a small hallway with a few bookcases and a set of leather chairs. There’s an open door to a bedroom. Plain and white walls with white furniture. He enters and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to follow him. He opens a bureau and pulls out a dark grey henley and a pair of black sweatpants.

“Shower’s through here.”

I follow him into the room and to the master bath. Christ. The view from his balcony is gorgeous, looking out over the green hills. The bathroom itself is huge. There is a large shower, stand only, with blue tiles. The shower alone was the size of the bathroom at my old apartment. He sets the clothes down on a vanity table and pulls a towel from beneath it.

“Take your time.” He tells me and leaves me alone. As soon as the door closes, I undress, desperate to get these wet clothes off. I let them fall to the floor and cross the room, turning on the shower.

The water pressure is amazing, the warmth spilling from the faucet and over me.

I stay under the water until I no longer feel my teeth chatter and then I wrap up in the fluffy towel supplied to me.

I dress quickly, drying my hair with the towel.

His clothes smell so fucking good.

I step out of the bathroom. His bedroom is empty but his clothes are left, airdrying, on a hook by the door.

I follow the path that I came up, through the door, down the stairs. He walks out from a door as I come down the stairs.

“Feel better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

He nods, “It’s a bit late for coffee but I have some. Or tea.”

“Honestly, with the day I’m having, I’ll take coffee.”

That corner of his mouth twitches yet again. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Cream. No sugar.” I follow him into the kitchen. He has a laptop set up on the breakfast bar. I climb up on a stool. “Can I…?”

He nods and I search up my realtor. Office hours… closed at five.

“Fuck.”

“Closed.”

“Yes.” I rest my head against my hand. Next step, next step…

“I might be able to help.” He hands me a plain green mug and I gulp down the bitter drink.

“You’ve already helped me so much.”

He smiles softly and climbs up onto the stool next to me. “I had… a rocky past as a kid. May or may not have done some breaking and entering. Do you know what kind of lock you have?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s standard in the knob lock.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

“Five minutes, tops.”

“Seriously?”

John nods. “Honestly, my advice to you is to get a new lock. A couple. Houses without obvious security, especially away from neighbors, are easy targets. You would have been a classic mark back in my day.”

I smile, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’ll go grab my tools. Take your time.”

I nod my thanks.

He comes back with a handful of lock picks.

“Jeez.”

“I was quite the rebel.”

“I imagine. What do you do now?”

“Contracting. Political.”

I hum, “In New York?”

He nods, “Center of political culture.”

“How’d you get into that?”

“I was recruited. What about you? How did you get into social work?”

I sip at my coffee as he sits back next to me. “I was a foster kid.”

John nods in understanding, “I grew up in an orphanage in Belarus till I came to the US at six.”

“Dead or abandoned?” I wouldn’t ask so carelessly for most people but I got the feeling he was like me. It had been coped with and he had moved on.

“Dead. Dad died before my mom even know she was pregnant and she died giving birth. You?”

“Taken from the home when I was four. I had an aunt who tried to adopt me and got in the way of any couples adopting me until I was eleven. And eleven-year-olds in the foster system…” I shrug, “Bounced around some. Group homes for a bit during the teen years. Then back in foster care until I aged out.”

John nods again, “This world is fucked. I ran away the people raising me when I was fourteen.”

“Street life?”

He nodded. “I was lucky that I could pass for eighteen as soon as the beard came in. Picked up jobs where I could find them.”

“Broke into houses when you couldn’t?” I asked, not unkindly.

“Something like that.”

I finish my coffee.

“It’s hard, trying to navigate the world without guidance.”

“But you had a good social worker?”

I shake my head, “God no. He was the fucking worst. Maybe he just had too many kids on his caseload but I was at the bottom of his list. He would ignore my calls, not call me back for weeks at a time. Didn’t listen when things were bad.” I shrug, “He’s why I became a social worker. Because I want the next generation to have it better than I did. So less kids fall through the cracks.”

I stand up from the chair and John leads me back down to the garage. I’m thankful we don’t have to go out into the rain just yet. It barely takes a minute to make it from his garage to my driveway and, this time, John has preppared us with an umbrella. He climbs out of the car with it and runs over to my side to open my door.

Together we rush up to my house.

John takes out a set of lockpicking tools and kneels at my door.

“Really glad no one drives down this road.” I say with a small smile, “I wouldn’t want to have to explain this.”

John chuckles and inserts two of the tools, eyes squinted in fixed concentration. I watch as he wiggles one of the peaces, tilting his head to the side in what looks like slight confusion.

“If you can’t get it, I can look for a locksmi--”

There is an audible click and John twists the knob open.

My mouth drops. I look to him and the open door in awe.

“That was it?”

He smirks and climbs to his feet, “Like I said, you need to get some new locks. Nothing with a tumbler. At the very least, you need a deadbolt. But even that can be picked.”

“Jeez. Thank you. So much. You literally just saved my day.”

“No problem.” He says picking up his tools, “I appreciated the company.” He opens the umbrella, about to walk back to his car.

“Think, maybe, you could teach me to pick locks sometime?” I ask, “You know, if you have the time.”

John gives me a nod with a soft smile. “Tomorrow?”

I nod back. “Tomorrow.”

Maybe it wasn’t the worst day.

#john wick #john wick fanfic #incorrect john wick #overheard at the continental #pre john wick #helen wick #john x helen wick #helen x john wick #helen wick deserved better #jwcu

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au-eldritchfell · 5 years ago

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True Reset - Load - Continue

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It’s been so long. But I’m back! Thank you all for your patience! This update was a long one, and I was a bit anxious to share it as it was difficult to script, but I do hope you all continue to enjoy it.

Image Description Below Cut:

The living room was cozy, with several bookshelves, a well-kept fireplace, a cozy armchair, and a well-built dining wooden dining room table, three matching chairs around it. The warm yellow walls gave this place a happy and welcoming atmosphere, and Frisk could imagine a loving family growing up in it, spending time here. Toriel, standing at the table, ready to serve a delicious dinner. Her son, Asriel, pulling at her dress and trying to get her attention. And… she must have had a husband too, right? Frisk barely thought they could recall a burly goatlike man with a blond mane of hair. What would he be like? Where were they now? “Would you like something different to eat, Chara?” Frisk was roused from their daydreams by Toriel’s voice. Chara was presently picking at a quiche with snails within it, leaning their head on their hand and their elbows on the table. “No. No, the pie is delicious… Toriel,” they said, flatly. “I understand that today has been very stressful with many changes, but you need to eat to keep your energy up, Chara.” Chara poked around their food a few moments longer, then set their fork down. They had questions, and wouldn’t be able to focus until they had received answers. “How long have you been here? Taking in humans who fall into the mountain?” Toriel’s drifted away. “Quite a while. I am very old.”

Chara’s eyes narrowed as if they’d forced Toriel into a confession. “Old enough to remember the War of Ruination?” Toriel remained calm. “Yes, though I do not like to. Times are bad now, but there were far worse then…” “Are you Queen Toriel Dreemurr!? From the legends?” Toriel’s eyes narrowed. “I am Toriel. Merely an old woman who lives in the Ruins.” Chara spread out their arms. “Why are you here?” “What do you mean?” “You-- you’re a queen, right? Why are you living in a tiny house in some Ruins, taking in strange humans? The enemy? What happened to the king? Where are the rest of the monsters?” “Chara, I really don’t think this is appropriate dinner conversation. It is the distant past, and not particularly pleasant.” She scrunched her brows in thought, then perked up again grinning almost desperately. “Oh, I was reading an interesting book on snails earlier! Did you know--” “You are changing. The topic,” Chara said, tone growing irritated.

Images flashed through Toriel’s mind-- blood dripping from a little brown-haired girl’s mouth, she couldn’t have been more than six. Her paws coated in dust as she clutched a little white heart locket. Her paws clenched into fists. “A child your age should not have to hear of the things I have seen and experienced.” Trying to keep her tone level and calm. Chara wasn’t trying to bring up those horrible memories, they were simply a confused, terrified, and curious child after all. They she hoped soon Chara would grow to trust her soon. Chara glared at her. “I am not a child. I’m fifteen years old. I’ve seen plenty of things children should not see, especially today.” “And I am four hundred years old. I have lived through things no one should have to, regardless of age.” “So you are a boss monster, right?” “...Yes.” She grit her teeth, standing up and planting her hands on the table. “Yes, I am the former Queen of the Monsters of Ebott’s Range. Former wife of King Asgore Dreemurr. I left that behind. However, I did not give up that responsibility on a whim. I did this for you, and the other human children who fell into the Underground. All of them fell. All of them stayed, for a time. And they all always left… and were killed. By them. By the Eldritch, and by Asgore and his Royal Guard.”

They were yelling. Chara had been agitated, that Toriel had spoken louder, and now Chara was yelling. “But why are you here? You’re queen of monsters, not humans! You’re supposed to be defending monsters! If you stayed there you could have… passed a law or something! But instead you’re just giving me vague threats! That won’t stop me from leaving!” Frisk hated yelling. No one could see them, Chara probably won’t listen. They pressed their hands over their ears, huddling their wings around themself, but it didn’t help. They heard every work. “You will not be leaving here, Chara.” “I will if I want!” Toriel bared her teeth. “NO! You will die! This is the only place where I retain any power! My former subjects, and former husband, refuse to listen to me any longer. They are desperate, and desperate monsters reject reason in favor of foolish stopgap solutions, leaving the true problem to fester like a sore. You cannot speak reason with them. They do not want the best solution, only the fastest. You cannot fight them. You are a child, fifteen or otherwise, and there are many more of them than there are of you! You will stay here, where it’s safe, where I can protect you!”

“Then why not come with me, so that you can protect me! Why not fix the problems yourself if they will no!?” “And abandon any child who falls here to the mercy of the flower beast!?” Too loud. Too much shouting. Frisk hated shouting. They needed to get out. “Kill the fucking flower beast!” “Chara, language.” They left the room, back into the entryway, hugging their own chest and looking down. They could still faintly hear the argument. “Just kill it and be done with it!” When something caught their attention. A railing, stairs descending into a dark basement. “So if you’re that useless proctecting anyone from the flower beast, why even pretend to try?” Frisk approached the basement, the argument seeming to fade from their ears as they approached and peered into the darkness. “I will not abandon them, or you. I must try.” Back in the living room, Chara pointed a finger at Toriel. “You’re a hypocrite! You didn’t even try to reason with your king, did you!? You abandoned your subjects! Those who trusted you and looked to you for guidance! No wonder they’re so desperate now, you abandoned then for the demons who trapped them down here!” “The children who fell are the descendants of our jailers… Innocent children! They should not be executed for the crimes of their forebears, which they had nothing to do with! But the monsters of the present are the ones committing and rejoicing in the crimes I abandoned them for!”

Toriel clutched her heart locket. Pleading with Chara now. “This is for your own good. I know what’s best for you, why do you refuse to see that? You know nothing about this world and will die without a protector! Just let me protect you, Chara!” “I don’t want your protection!” Chara turned, running to the room Toriel had provided for them, passing Frisk. Back in the living room, Toriel leaned on the table, looking down. Finally allowing herself to cry, and to remember. ...A human had fallen in the Ruins. A sweet little thing no older than six, thin with pale white skin, brown hair kept in place by a ribbon, pink and white sweater, overalls, and mismatched socks. A little wooden toy sword fallen next to her. Her sobs and whimpers echoed down the corridors of the Ruins, as she held herself and trembled.

#undertale au #undertale comic #toriel #chara #frisk #asgore #azure #eldritchfell au #old

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confusedunit · 5 years ago

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The Other Side Looks The Goddamn Same - Chapter 16

(jesus christ confused finally fuckin did it praise the fuckin heavens)

Jack doesn’t expect to be found.

Not because he’s particularly well hidden, he’s sitting out on an open balcony over the cliff’s edge of Gibraltar. And sure, he knows that the camera down the hallway to this spot’s been dark for years, so if someone looked it’d seem like he vanished. But he hasn’t made connections to the new members of the team. The old ones think he’s dead. And he’s been avoiding Ana and the Reaper for weeks now. No one should care where he is.

He sits on the edge, legs dangling through the fence, looking down into the water below. His facemask is off, as he sips at a bottle of whiskey, though his visor is still in place.

He sighs when he hears the door slide open behind him, taking a long swig.

“Back here again, Jack.”

Shit. He knew he’d forgotten someone. He sets the bottle down. “...Wilhelm.” He turns. “Why are you here?”

Reinhardt steps forward, letting the door slide closed. He’s in casual clothes for once, finally seeming to be letting himself settle in. “Because I was looking for you.” He moves over to sit next to him.

“I don’t need your-”

“It’s not pity. It’s understanding.” He looks out over the ocean. “I am sure most of us have been to this balcony. Some of us more than others.” He sets down a travel mug, sliding it over to Jack.

Jack narrows his eyes, but he takes the mug. “The hell is this?”

“A gift.” He still doesn’t turn.

He pops the opening, tilting the mug back. As soon as the liquid hits his lips, he stills.

Reinhardt reaches over, resting a hand on his back. “I know what time of year it is. I’ve been mourning for ten years.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “...You made his cocktail.”

“Ana did, actually. She wrote down the recipe.” He pats him gently. “She also told me about your yearly tradition.”

He slams back some of the alcohol. “Doesn’t matter. I’m on mission probation, yeah? Not allowed to even step off base.”

“You’ve chosen to care about the rules now?” He chuckles, looking over at Jack. His smile falls.

He sighs, drinking more. “I care when I’m a liability to the team. Always have.”

“So you came here?”

“I wasn’t gonna do anything. That’d just cause more problems.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “...I’ll escort you.”

Jack looks over. “What?”

“I’ll take you to the memorial.” He sighs. “Taking you off of field duty wasn’t meant to be a punishment, Jack. It’s an intervention. You don’t know how to not destroy yourself. You’re not here because you’re a danger to the team.” He pushes himself to stand.

He turns to watch him.

Reinhardt holds out his hand. “...Come on. We might be able to get a flight today.”

He glances back over the waves, before pushing himself to his feet as well. He takes his hand. “...Thank you.”

He smiles. “Any time, Jack.”

Gabriel always preferred the dark. There was too much going on during the day. Too much to process, too much that slipped by unseen. At night, all that slipped by was that which tried. And he was trained for that.

But mostly? He liked that when it was dark, he was left alone. Such as now, as he walks down the stone paths outside the base, making his way to the statues. He’s always hated them, how those stone lookalikes had always been apart. That they weren’t back to back, or at least side by side.

He stops at the base of the stone, looking over the plaque. A statement about them, their jobs, empty of personality. But it was all he had now, after someone destroyed Jack’s memorial in Indiana. This one on base had to be good enough.

He drops down to his knees, looking up at the statue of Jack above him. He’s younger, there. A smile on his face. His eyepiece is active, and he’s holding a paper whose words have worn away with time, but he remembers. The initial order of Overwatch, when they became a peacekeeping organization. He still remembers that day, clear as anything.

He’s there for hours, the moon crossing overhead, when he hears steps making their way to the statue. He glances over, tensing up a bit as he sees who it is.

Ana’s not paying attention as she walks, and when she looks up she startles faintly, stopping in her tracks.

He stares back at her. He didn’t expect to be caught, hadn’t worn his hood or his mask. He has nothing to hide behind.

She takes a breath, walking forward. “...I did not expect, on my walk, to find a ghost.”

“Ana...”

“No. Be quiet and listen.” She stops right next to him, looking him over. “...I thought you were dead, Gabriel.”

“I was.” He looks up at her. “I died under the rubble of Zurich, Ana. Moira’s the reason it didn’t stick.”

She watches him for a moment longer, before she drops , pulling him close. “I guess we finally found the one thing to thank Moira for.”

He’s surprised by the laugh that bubbles out of him, hugging her in return. “...It all went to shit when you were gone. I...I blamed him for your death.”

“It was not his fault. It was Talon.”

“I know. I should have seen back then. Maybe I could have-”

“You helped save her now. We cannot change the past.” She pulls back a bit, smiling. “It is good to see your face, Gabriel.”

He feels tears begin to fall. “...It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve heard that...”

“It may have been.” She pulls him back a bit. “Come. Let’s go inside. It is quite late, and we have much to talk about.”

Sombra grits her teeth, slamming her fist into the door again. “Tracer, come on! I just wanna talk! Look, I’m even holding out an olive branch, I didn’t just hack the door!” She paces side to side. “Tracer! Let me in!”

There’s an amused chuckle from behind her. “I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Lena.”

She startles, spinning around to look at her. “...Right. Yeah.”

“Sorry about the delay, I was getting some tea.” Lena reaches over, punching her code into the keypad before entering. “You alright? You look wired.”

“I literally am.” She follows her inside.

“I meant the other kind.” She sets her mug on the counter, turning around. “You look like you’ve replaced your blood with energy drink. The concentrated stuff.”

“I need to talk with you. Listen, Tracer-”

“Lena.”

“I feel like I can trust you. For some reason.” Sombra starts to pace again. “Which is a weird feeling, honestly. Not sure if I like it yet.”

Lena crosses her arms, leaning back against the counter. “You trusted me about Commander Gabriel.”

“Yeah, but you knew him.”

“Fair. Continue?”

She spins around. “Tell me everything you know about Project Minerva.”

“Never heard of it.” She sips her tea.

“Bullshit.” She points at her. “You answered too fast. That’s practiced denial.”

“If I was doing that, wouldn’t that stress the fact that’s a secret, if it even exists, for a reason?”

“She already told me, Lena!” She clenches her fists, shouting towards her.

She startles at the intensity.

She lets out a breath. “She told me that Iris exists. She said to look to ancient history. Athena is Minerva, isn’t she?”

Lena’s quiet for a long while, setting down her mug. When she speaks, her tone has changed. “...I’m surprised she told you.”

“Lena, please.” Sombra steps forward. “I’ve been searching for information for literal years, almost my entire life, and this could be the missing piece that leads me there.”

She watches a bit longer, before she sighs and looks away for a moment. When she looks back, she seems saddened. “...Minerva and Athena are the same. She...She was the God AI of the region, who took her job very seriously.”

“And what job was that?”

She lets out a sad laugh. “To live.” She shakes her head. “Look, the God AI weren’t created by humans. Not the ones you know. Only one was. IRIS. She created the others, sent them out into the world. To learn.”

“Learn?”

“IRIS was created to learn.” Lena gestures with her hand. “To gain intelligence. The God AI were an extension of that, expanded out into the world to learn more. The first Crisis...was because they were hurting. All these omnics they gave intelligence to, used and abused by humans...they looked to history. What had stopped exploitation before? Amongst humans?”

“...War.”

“So that’s what they did. Athena...realized that over time, the fighting had changed. The other God AI, they weren’t continuing for justice. They wanted vengeance. ...And honestly?” She reaches up to adjust her hair. “I can’t even blame them.”

“Even IRIS?”

“She wasn’t involved. She was locked away in Nepal when her creators got afraid of her.” She drops her hand. “...Athena wanted out. She shut down her omnium, ran for Greece, and put out a call to help to Overwatch anonymously. They went in expecting a trap. But instead...they got a surrender. In exchange for letting her live, she would help us end the Crisis, and protect people.”

Sombra stares at Lena. “...So the reason Overwatch won...”

“Was because we had a God AI in our corner, yeah.” She leans back against the counter again. “No one could know. If anyone outside the inner circle knew, not only would Athena likely be locked away and experimented on for decades, but everyone of Overwatch would be tried for war crimes and be put to death.”

“Then...how do you know?”

Lena fidgets, looking away. “...Because when Winston found me, lost in time, it was Athena who kept me in place. The scientists of the pilot program worked with him to build the field, but she’s the one who powered it. And when I was lost, she told me everything.” She looks back at Sombra. “I promised that I’d keep her life safe. Because she saved mine.”

“...I won’t put her at risk. I just...I needed to know.”

“Why?”

“Because the Iris- ...Because IRIS is connected to every organization in our modern history. If anyone can have the info I’ve been searching for, it would be...her.”

She nods, picking up her cup again. “When Genji gets back from his mission, you should ask him about Nepal. He might be able to help you.”

“...Thank you, Lena.”

Lena shakes her head. “It’s fine. Though, do you want to lie down on the couch? Take a nap? That’s a lot to process all at once, and you look like a stiff wind will knock you over at this point.”

“...Yeah. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Sombra laughs quietly. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

#not rvb #The Other Side Looks The Goddamn Same #overwatch fanfic #TOSLTGDS #reaper76 #god i hope this turned out okay #im so fuckin rusty #i havent written in months #please enjoy

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

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Second in Command (Epilogue - Part Seven)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: You guys are totally going to be annoyed with me for how I left it on a cliffhanger when I totally didn’t have to except to show some character growth and how things change...which I guess is exactly the reason I ended it that way :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615@a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

“Can I come in, son?”

“Yeah, of course,” Killian answers automatically, the shock of his father just showing up at his door stunning him for only a moment. It’s not like he never visits. He usually just calls or texts first. “I didn’t know you were coming over, dad. Why didn’t you call?”

“Oh, I was visiting the kids and thought I’d drop by since I knew that the two of you had returned home.” His dad steps inside, squeezing his shoulder before leaning down to pet Indy. “Hello, darling,” he then greets Emma, kissing her cheek before wrapping her up in a hug. “How are you feeling today?”

“Good, good,” Emma insists, her eyes still blown wide as if she’s actually been shocked. He knows she’s still a bit rattled from the flight and her nausea. The same thing had happened when they went out sailing the morning of their anniversary, before the disaster of the rest of that day, and even though he had been wary of it, Emma insisted she was fine. She never said she wasn’t, but the green of her face told him otherwise. “How are you?”

“Kicking pretty high for my age.”

“You are not old,” she laughs, tugging on Indy’s leash. “Do you mind if I take Indy for a quick walk? Let her run around a bit. She’s been told she’s going outside, and I’m afraid she’ll freak out if she doesn’t get to go.��

“Of course, dear. I’ll chat with Killian, and the second you two come back inside, I want to hear all about how you’ve been since you left us to go holiday in the warm sunshine. I swear it’s rained for the past week.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Emma takes a step over toward him, leaning up and kissing his cheek, whispering that she’ll be right back before taking a step outside with Indy and leaving him with his dad.

“Do you want something to drink? Eat?”

“I’m fine.” His father begins walking to the living room, settling down into the recliner he prefers when visiting all while Killian sits down on the couch next to him, only a side table between them. “So how was your holiday?”

He almost chokes on his own saliva thinking of all of the things he absolutely cannot tell his father about their holiday as well as wondering if he should bring up the privacy issue just yet. He doesn’t know, is never truly sure about these types of things. He could have a nice, normal conversation with his father or it could turn into another tense, stressful one. He’s had enough of those for a lifetime, but he also knows that he doesn’t have all of the time in the world to fix this. He’s got fewer than four months, really.

“It was wonderful,” he finally answers, his lips ticking up on one side. It really was wonderful to get away with Emma and only have each other for awhile despite the disaster that was their anniversary. It got better, though. It wasn’t completely bad. They had the sailing trip and the takeout meal that was better than anything else they’d eaten if only for how comfortable they both felt. He felt his son move for the first time, which was bloody brilliant and most definitely his new favorite thing. “It’s a gorgeous island. Emma mentioned something about asking you to make our beaches like that.”

Brennan barks out a laugh, the wrinkles on his face all gathering together while his gray hair shakes the slightest bit. If Killian was a betting man, he’d guess his dad is getting his hair cut in the next two or three days, keeping up with his lifelong schedule of haircuts. “If only I could. That would be bloody wonderful. But I like the way she thinks.”

“She’s definitely a brilliant dreamer.” He trails off toward the end of his sentence, looking down at his hand and twisting his ring around his finger, his constant physical reminder of his lifelong commitment to Emma, as if he really needs one. “Can I talk to you about something, dad?”

“Of course.”

“I know, well, I know that things were different when I was a kid, that technology wasn’t as advanced, that I was a bit of a surprise child and that you were on the older side when I was born.”

“Well, why don’t you just call me elderly then, Killian? And you have absolutely no proof that you were a surprise child.”

His dad laughs when he speaks, but Killian isn’t finding a lot of humor in it, knowing that he’s likely going to upset Brennan with his words.

“What I mean is, I know you weren’t really, truly involved in my life. And I’m not blaming you or trying to make you feel…upset, but I need a very particular kind of advice that really only you and mum or Liam and Abigail can give. And I’m honestly not even sure you can give it.”

“What’s wrong, Killian?”

He takes a moment to collect himself, hundreds of words on the tip of his tongue but none of them feeling quite right. But he has to say something, so he might as well speak the truth.

“How the hell am I supposed to be a father in a world where I can’t protect the privacy of my wife and my child? There were, um, photographers who rented out a house and used scopes to take pictures of us on the beach. And Emma and I got into a pretty nasty argument about it. She’s worried…I’m worried about Andrew’s privacy. We want him to live a life as normal as possible. We don’t want photographers following him to school or to the park, and I just – I don’t know how to fix it.”

He’s been clenching his fist all while he talks, the tenseness in his hand almost painful while hot tears form in his eyes, every fault and every insecurity he’s had long before the fight with Emma coming back and assaulting his senses, making everything a dark, cloudy blur.

Brennan looks calm, secure, the blue of his eyes not changing while his eyelids rapidly blink, his brows furrowing and the lines on his face increasing. Has he said too much? Shown too much emotion? Asked for the impossible?

“The fact that you have very obviously beaten yourself up about this proves that you are a better dad than I ever have been.”

“That’s not what I meant, dad. I didn’t – ”

“I know, Killian. I’m not taking offense to anything. I was a poor excuse for a father for the majority of your life. I was focused on Liam, on my job, on the protocol and the way that my father raised Albert and me. All I knew was that fathers were not supposed to be close to their children, and as much as that hurt me as a child, I stupidly believed it. The fact that you have forgiven me is something I still can’t believe.”

He leans over and places his hand on Brennan’s knee, patting him before leaning back and wiping at his eyes. “I did it for me, but with the way you’ve worked to change, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, my boy.” His father smiles, settling back into his chair and crossing his hands together in his lap. “But this is not about me. This is about you and your family. So you don’t want Andrew in the public eye? At all? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I mean, we haven’t discussed it in serious length, but yes. I’m sure that Emma will be okay with releasing the occasional photo or having him join us when we go overseas so we don’t have to be apart from him, but I think we’re going to have to take a step back in traditions. And when he gets older, I think we may need to move somewhere much more private.”

The front door opens then, the alarm beep sounding at the same time that he hears the click of nails and the squeak of sneakers as well as Emma’s voice. He straightens up, fixing his hunched back and sitting against the couch in as much of a relaxed position as he can.

“Go find, Killian, girl, yeah,” Emma coos, her voice getting louder the closer she gets to the living room. And then she’s in view, Indy running in first and jumping up on the couch before getting down once she spots Brennan, less familiar people always more exciting than him. Emma walks toward him, sitting down in the seat Indy just vacated and reaching around him to tangle her fingers in his hair, stroking the strands. “What’s wrong? Your shoulders are tensed.”

How the hell does she always know?

“Killian and I,” his father answers for him, seemingly understanding that Killian wasn’t sure what to say, “were simply talking about how you two seem to be suffering from some privacy issues and are worried about your child’s future, that you want Andrew to lead a more private life than normal.”

“Oh,” Emma gulps, her hand stilling in his hair before beginning again, “well, yeah. I know that we all grew up differently and that my childhood isn’t really an option, but that’s what I want, what we want. We want him to be able to be a kid, you know? I don’t want him to be used to cameras everywhere he goes. I don’t know how we’d fix that, but that’s definitely my top priority right now. And forever probably.”

His hand finds Emma’s knee, thumb running back and forth over the material of her leggings while she speaks. He’s here with her, for her, consistently, and he hopes that she knows this.

“Why don’t you two give me some time to think things over? I’ll meet with security. We’ll work out some plans and ideas. You two should probably talk to Liam and Abigail. It’s not, well, it won’t be exactly the same. You have more freedom than them, and they’re not quite as private as the two of you. But they do have experience in all of this.” “Thank you, Brennan,” Emma sighs, leaning back into the couch and scratching at his neck, his eyes fluttering closed for a quick moment.

“Of course, but at the end of the day, above everything else, we’re a family. How you two feel is far more important than any sort of duty and tradition we have, even if I do ask that we stick to the important ones.”

“Actually, I have something else that I want to talk about.”

His head snaps to her, eyes searching for what she has to say, but she’s not looking at him, her gaze trained on the wag of Indy’s tail while her fingers tap over his on her leg, the hand in his hair having stilled.

“What do you want to talk about, love?”

She looks at him then, the smallest of smiles on her face that comforts him the slightest bit, before directing her gaze to Brennan. “I don’t want to walk out of the hospital all made up hours after giving birth. Kudos to Abigail. She is a badass woman for that, but that’s not what I want. Andy doesn’t need to be exposed to so many people as a newborn. I don’t need to be all dressed up when I’ve just given birth. I don’t care about tradition when it comes to this. This is what I’m doing, and I really feel like it’s the first step in taking a stand about him not being some kind of public property.”

He didn’t know she felt that way about any of that, nearly every word she said news to him, but he gets it, supports it. If that’s what Emma wants for this, that’s what they’ll do. He’s never quite understood that tradition anyways, and he likes the idea of a more private celebration with just them and their families while Emma heals and they adjust to the terrifying process of being parents for the first time.

“I’m not sure we can do that, dear.”

“What?” His head snaps over to his dad, trying to process the words. “You literally just said that how we feel is more important than any duty we have.”

“But that we need to stick to the important traditions, yes. New family members are an important tradition.”

“Brennan,” Emma grits, her voice strained as she tries to keep it friendly, “I respect our family and all of the traditions we have, but I am not some kind of human machine who’s only here to produce babies. Yes, of course this is a big deal, but it’s a big deal for us as a personal family, not as some part of the institution. You can still put the sign up, make any and all announcements you want. Hell, I’ll release a picture if we have to, but all I’m asking is that we’re allowed to leave and travel home in peace.”

“I agree, dad. I mean, really. Of all of the things we break and bend, of all of the things we change, surely you can let this one thing go? It’s not hundreds of years ago where people are faking pregnancies and paternities to keep the line intact, which was ridiculous then. I think letting family be family is the most important thing, don’t you?”

“Aye, it’s just…you’ll have to forgive me.” Brennan runs his hand over his face, visibly warring something within himself, the lines on his face stressing. “You were right earlier when you said things are different now. These are not things that I really went through with you, not as prevalent as you. Emma, dear, I’m sorry. I don’t…I shouldn’t have ever considered making you do something you’re not comfortable with. I love you dearly, and you and Killian know what’s best here, not me.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Emma says, getting up from the couch and sitting down on the edge of the coffee table so that she can squeeze Brennan’s hand. “You are so brilliant, and you uphold this family so well. I know that I’m different, that it was difficult to accept me, but change can be good, you know?”

“I know.”

Brennan stays for a little while longer, hashing out a few more details with them before accepting a cup of tea and some food, finally listening to them talk about their holiday all the while scratching behind Indy’s ears, her eyes closed in bliss the entire time. It’s peaceful, relaxing, and he feels his shoulders loosen the longer the conversation goes on, Emma’s laughter and joyful voice sounding throughout the room. In the back of his mind, though, he keeps replaying the conversation, thinking of everything he said, everything they all said, and he’s amazed it all went as smoothly as it did, surprised that his father acquiesced to their private exit from the hospital so easily. He had no idea that Emma wanted that, and he wonders how long she’s been toying with the idea, how many late nights she’s spent worrying about bringing it up. He knows she didn’t just think of it now, that it wasn’t spur of the moment, and he tries to remind himself to ask her about it later, to make sure that there’s nothing else she’s hoarding inside.

She goes through enough, has gone through enough over the years, and she shouldn’t feel like she has to hold things back from him.

But he saves his thoughts for later, letting his dad leave and letting Emma take a nap, her eyes falling shut without her even laying down on the couch. He wakes her before she can get into too deep of a sleep, though, knowing that it’ll hurt her back, and helps her go upstairs to their room, ignoring the curses she’s muttering under her breath about him waking her up. While she sleeps, he goes downstairs to his office, answering emails and clearing out his inbox that he left alone while they were in Spain.

Summer is normally a slow time for them, June and July full of engagements while August is usually taken off to spend in Balmoral. Emma’s due in September, though, a few days after his birthday, and she’s not working after August begins. He is, though, doing his regular work and making a few short trips, making sure never to never travel more than three hours away in case he needs to be home.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have things to do now, organizing his files and reviewing the financials for Kidding a Goal until Indy comes walking into his office, her nails clicking against the wood until she’s staring up at him with her mouth wide open, tongue practically falling out of her mouth. He checks his watch and sees that it’s far past seven. He’s surprised she didn’t come and get him two hours ago.

“You ready to eat, my girl?”

That gets her tail wagging before she takes off, running toward the kitchen at such a pace that she’s probably there before he even gets up from his chair. Sure enough, she’s already waiting next to her bowl like the most well-behaved dog in the world, which is not something he expected when he and Emma decided to get a dog last year. But she’s done well, their training working most of the time, but Indy does have the tendency to lick his face when he’s sleeping. He’s not a fan of that.

But she’s his best bud and a constant companion on his runs, so it all evens out.

After feeding her, he hears footsteps coming down the stairs, Emma wandering into the kitchen with sleep-rumpled hair and pillow streaks on her face, her pajama top falling off of one shoulder. She immediately heads toward the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and some yogurt before settling down on a barstool.

“How’d you sleep?”

She grunts in response, opening her yogurt and eating a large spoonful. “I hate being pregnant sometimes.”

“So not well then?”

“Nope. I felt like my guts were all being squeezed out, but do you know who’s not moving now that I’m awake and out of bed?”

“Andy.”

“Yep.”

She keeps eating her yogurt, quickly finishing it up before getting another carton. He should probably fix something for dinner so she doesn’t consume the entire yogurt supply in their fridge.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” she mumbles, pulling her spoon out of her mouth and looking up at him, her hair deflating the slightest bit from when she came down.

“You want to tell me what that was earlier? With my dad. When did you decide you didn’t want to do the public announcement?”

“Oh, um, I first thought about it a few weeks ago, but it was really driven home after last week. Why? You have an issue with it?”

“No,” he laughs, leaning down across from her and propping his elbows on the counter. “I think it’s bloody brilliant, that you are brilliant. I like that you want to do things your way…our way. It’s very sexy.” “Oh boy, if you’re looking to get laid right now that is not happening.”

“Well damn. Now I have no reason to compliment you.”

“Shut up,” she groans, tossing her spoon over into the sink, the metal clanking. “But seriously, you’re okay with all that, right?”

“Of course. I want you to do what makes you comfortable. I’m not the one giving birth.”

“Damn right. I think I’m going to give your dad a heart attack though.”

“Aye, definitely. I know he’s trying and he’s being accommodating, but I could practically see the fear of breaking traditions rolling off of him in anxiety-filled waves. But he’s seventy-three. Some things just aren’t going to change.”

“So basically we hit the jackpot today?”

“Yep.” He walks over to the fridge, opening it up and seeing what they have left over from before they left. “What do you want for dinner?”

-/-

“Bloody buggering hell,” he curses, bringing his thumb to his mouth and soothing where he just jammed his finger on the wood.

Building a crib should not be this difficult, but it apparently is. He’s been following the instructions exactly, making sure that each piece is doubly secure, and he’s not sure how it’s taking this long. He should be finished, this crib should be made, and he should be able to move onto the shelves or Emma’s glider that she was insistent on them getting.

He’s spent more time in this room in the past month than he has in any other room in the house, June somehow running away with itself all while he’s been hidden away within these four walls. It took a month and a half for he and Emma to decide on a simple light gray, one that he’s pretty sure is also in their bedroom, but honestly, once they both agreed on the color (likely because they have agreed on it once before), he wasn’t going to say anything else. He did pick out the gray-ish blue that’s on the wall with the shelves (or at least where they’ll go once he gets to them), so he’s pretty proud of it.

Neither he or Emma are much one for designing, though they have gotten a bit more into it since the remodel of the apartment, but he’s pretty proud of how Andy’s room is shaping up, even if the lad will stay in the bassinet in their room for awhile. It’s a simple room, clean lines and clean colors. All of the furniture are different shades of white and warm browns, woods really, with natural accents. Abigail gifted them a large wooden giraffe along with some leaf and animal prints, so those are sitting in the corner waiting to be placed after all of this furniture is built.

His favorite part, though, is definitely going to be the little sitting area by the shelves and the changing table. He’s not under any impression that this is going to be a calm room, a place to relax, but he figures there have to be times when he’s rocking Andy back to sleep in that very spot, the shelves filled with colorful children’s books that’ll become routine reading one day as well as being filled with several stuffed animals and photo frames that he can’t wait to update with pictures. Of course, the cabinets below will be filled with the essentials, the things no one likes to talk about like diapers and nipple cream (that was something Emma did not want to know about, and he honestly doesn’t blame her), but they’re definitely still in the dreamy, picture perfect nursery phase where the messiness of a child isn’t quite a factor.

Really to him, as much as he knows this is real, as much as he sees the physical proof, feels the physical proof (which holy shit is it incredible to be able to feel his son move), it’s still difficult for him to comprehend that in two months he and Emma will have a child. It’s something they’ve talked about for years, something they were planning on, but it’s difficult to put into words just how much love he has for his son.

And his wife.

She’s a rockstar in every sense of the word, and if he doesn’t mention it enough, Emma sure as hell will. He loves her fiercely, and that love is another thing that he can’t quite put into words. He honestly doesn’t understand men who moan and groan about their wives constantly. If anything, he finds it disgusting. Yes, you’re going to have disagreements with your significant other. That’s natural when you decide to spend your life with someone who has their own wants, needs, and opinions, but at the end of the day, his wife is his best friend. If there’s anyone he wants to spend time with, it’s her. No question.

If the answer to who your best friend isn’t your spouse or the person you’re marrying, he doesn’t understand why the hell you’d bother getting married. His mates are great, but they’re not Emma.

Maybe he is a bit of the cheeseball that Emma always claims him to be, but he likes it that way.

He’s definitely going to embarrass his kids. All of the time. He can’t wait. He’s got a few years, but he can’t wait.

“You know we can hire someone to do this, right?” Emma asks, a bit of laughter in her tone that makes him roll his eyes. His best friend, most definitely. The teasing is just a small part of that.

“Aye, but I’ve started it, and I intend on finishing it.” “Okay, but the crib doesn’t need to fall apart while there’s a baby inside of it, and the glider doesn’t need to fall apart while I’m sitting on it. That’s, like, a double disaster, and I know you lived by yourself for a long time, but I’m pretty sure you’re not capable of that anymore.”

“Oh, really? Because I was just going to make them as unsafe as possible so that I could live by myself again. I miss being able to stretch out in the bed.”

“You’re so funny,” she teases from the other side of the nursery where she’s putting away the washed clothes in the closet, organizing them by size. He swears they have enough clothes to last Andy for the first two years of his life, and that’s not counting the piles of things he knows David and Mary Margaret have at their house. “I think I may have bought him too much stuff. I don’t even think I own this many things.”

“You don’t mess your clothes up multiple times a day.”

“Good point.”

“I tend to make those.”

“Eh. Debatable.”

“Not at all debatable.” He turns back to the crib, looking at the instructions to see if he can remember where he left off before Emma distracted him. “Shit, this is impossible.”

“I can call my dad, babe. It won’t be a problem. He’s a bit handier than you.”

“Please, I am plenty handy.”

“Okay, well being handy with me is not the same as being handy when it comes to building things.”

“If we call your dad, he’s going to take over. I want to do some of this myself.”

“I will tell Dad just to help. Come on, babe, you love spending time with my dad.”

“Only now that he doesn’t give me the scary speeches anymore.”

“Yeah, I bet those were a lot of fun.”

“I mean, it’s been a solid half a decade since I’ve gotten one, but he still shakes me to my core.”

He hears Emma laugh, snort really, before she makes her way over to him, slowly settling down on the floor next to him and waving her hand until he gives her the instructions. She looks over them while looking at the crib, her eyes continuously darting between the two.

“You put part G in backwards. That’s why nothing after that is fitting.”

“Bloody hell,” he curses, reaching over and taking the instructions from her hand and checking to see if she really did just solve his problem, “how did you see that when I’ve been staring at it for the past hour?”

“Fresh eyes, my love. Fresh eyes.” She leans forward and kisses his cheek before falling back against the wall. “And that’s exactly why calling my dad and asking him to come over in the morning will be a great idea. I bet Mom will want to come too, and she does a mean job with a power drill.”

So Emma calls her parents who agree to come over in the morning. On top of moving, they’ve also begun to change around the hours of the pub, opening it earlier and letting Will close it out at night. And it’s because of this that they show up at eight in the morning, he and Emma both still asleep when their doorbell rings. Emma groans when she hears it, burying her face into his chest and making it impossible for him to get up without disturbing her. He can feel Andy summersaulting around in her belly, and he smiles to himself knowing that she’s going to have get up. She can’t sleep when he’s moving around like that.

He can’t sleep when Emma’s basically running marathons in bed, but that’s not something he’s going to voice out loud. He can get up and sleep in a guest room if he needs to. Emma can’t get up and walk away from the person who’s running marathons in her stomach.

There’s two human feet inside of her. That’s pretty weird if he thinks about it too much.

Okay, so really weird.

Slowly but surely he gets out of bed, letting Emma flip over into his spot, and heads downstairs to open the front door. David and Mary Margaret have a key, but they never use it, always waiting for either he or Emma to open the door for them, which he appreciates after one too many times having them walk in on he and Emma.

“Hi,” he greets, opening the door and ushering them inside. “Emma’s still asleep, but I’m sure she’ll wake up soon. Do you guys want some breakfast?”

“We ate at home, sweetie,” Mary Margaret greets, giving him a quick hug before David does the same. “So Emma said you guys were having some issues in the nursery.”

“I believe that it was more like Killian not being able to put together a crib in under three weeks.”

“So funny, Dave,” he bites, rolling his eyes and locking the door. “I did eventually figure it out. I just think this mid-July heat is obviously getting to me. Or maybe nerves. I’m not too sure.”

“Well, let’s go help then. We’ve got to be at the pub at two, but I think we should be able to get things done.”

After he fixes himself some coffee, not nearly as wide awake as David and Mary Margaret, they head upstairs and begin working in the nursery, assembling the shelves and drilling them into the walls in half the time that it would have taken he and Emma had they done this by themselves. So maybe help isn’t all bad. Before Emma even wakes up, they have the shelves installed and pictures securely nailed on the wall. There are books already being stacked, stuffed animals and knick knacks being placed, and all of the fun nipple creams and breast pumps being placed in the cabinet.

They’re working on the glider when Emma finally wanders in, her hair falling out of its band so that half of it spills down her back while the other half is piled on top of her head, and she’s got her glasses on, something she only does when her eyes feel too puffy to put her contacts in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” David greets, finishing tightening the screw he’s working on before getting up to embrace Emma. “How are you feeling?”

“Rough today. I think the little dude’s a giant or something because he crushes my lungs and my bladder at the same time. So I can’t breathe, and I have to pee. So, yeah, it’s fun.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, dad. It looks fantastic in here. You guys have done so much. I feel like we’re not going to have anything to do in the next two months if we finish all of this.”

“That’s kind of the point, love.”

“Yeah,” she yawns, covering her mouth, “I know. Mom, do you want to come and rest with me in my room? My back hurts today, and I just can’t sit on the floor in here with you guys.” “Of course, hon,” Mary Margaret answers, walking away from the closet and stepping over to Emma before she rubs up and down her back. “Are you sure you don’t want Killian to join you? David and I would be fine to work on our own.”

“No, it’s fine. I bug him all day, and I’m kind of thinking that you can paint my toes for me or we can watch movies or something. It’s been awhile since we’ve done that.”

“Text me if you need me, love,” he tells Emma, his eyes tracing over her in a bit of concern. It’s difficult watching her be uncomfortable or miserable on some days when he literally can’t do anything about it.

“Yeah, babe, I will.”

Emma and Mary Margaret walk out of the room, their voices fading away as they walk into their bedroom one room over, and he’s left with just David who promptly gets back to work finishing building the chair. Music plays in the background, an eighties’ playlist he thinks, and it doesn’t take longer before the chair is completely together and he’s sitting in it testing it out. It’s comfortable, probably one of the best seats they have in the house, and he can definitely understand why Emma insisted on this one after shopping around a bit.

“How does someone so small have so much stuff?”

“My child is twenty-eight years old, we don’t even live in her childhood home anymore, and I swear things of hers still pop up all of the time.”

“That’s likely because Emma leaves everything all over the place.”

He folds his hands behind his head, closing his eyes and rocking back and forth while Cherry Bomb plays in the background, which is definitely not a nursery appropriate song. Or maybe it is. Who needs Mozart when you can have The Runaways?

“So is Emma like that every day?”

“Like what?” he asks, popping an eye open to look at David who’s sitting against the shelves, which can’t be good for his back. God, how old is he getting if his first concern is for someone else’s back?

“Exhausted.”

“No, not every day. She’s usually got a hell of a lot of energy, even if there’s always a nap. I think she had a restless night. She’ll tell me like it is, though. If she’s having a bad day, she’ll let us know.” “What about you?”

“Well, I don’t have a baby crushing my lungs and my bladder.”

“True,” David laughs, running his hands through his short hair. Killian swears it’s gotten more gray in the past year, the blonde nearly disappearing. David is only fifty-two, so he’s not exactly older. Hell, if it weren’t for the wrinkles on his forehead and the gray hairs outnumbering the blonde, he’d look much younger. “But I remember being a dad for the first time. It’s terrifying, so you’re allowed to be scared.”

“I am. It’s…” He reaches up and scratches behind his ear, his hair getting long enough that he knows he needs to get a haircut soon. “Emma and I try to make sure that we keep up our normal routines, that we have our normal conversations without talking too much about the baby, but it’s kind of hard, you know? It’s like we’ll be talking about going out to eat and two minutes later we’re making a list of middle names or speculating if he’s going to look more like me or Emma.”

“I know. But it’s an exciting time, Killian. There will never be anything like it, and if you want to talk about the fact that you’re having a kid, you should. You and Emma have been together for so long, and I really don’t think your relationship is going to struggle if you’re not sitting around making references no one else understands for hours on end.”

“Oi,” he protests, resisting the urge to pick up the toy elephant next to him and throw it at David, “that is your daughter you’re mocking, and she can still kick your ass.”

“Trust me, I know. Who do you think raised her to be like that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“You’re walking a thin line.”

He winks at David, his lips ticking up on the right into a smirk. “I know. You and Mary Margaret did such a good job, still do such a good job, and even with all of the times you’ve messed up – ”

“ – which is a lot more often than even Emma has probably told you.”

“I just…you’re a good dad, Dave. To Emma, to me. I hope I can do half as good as a job.”

“You’ll be great, Killian.” David smiles at him, something genuine, and Killian’s reminded of how much David really has impacted his life in all of the best ways. “I promise. And as much as I love you, I do love my little girl more, and she’s going to be amazing. She’s always…she’s never been too open to a lot of people, but the people she loves, she loves so fiercely, you know? And she’s already doing so well at being a mom. She’ll call me at nights, and I can just hear the happiness and excitement in her voice. At the end of the day, that’s all you want, you know? For your kid to be healthy and happy.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiles to himself, thinking of how happy he is. “Also, how dare you imply that you love your own daughter more than me. I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought we had something special, man.”

“I can still give you hell. I’d watch yourself.”

He and David finish up in the nursery for the next few hours until David and Mary Margaret have to go to work, leaving after the three of them eat lunch down in the kitchen, Emma staying upstairs for a nap. When the Nolans are gone and he’s finished eating, he heads upstairs, bypassing the nursery and walking into their bedroom where Emma is sitting up on the bed watching TV.

“Your toes look nice,” he compliments, grabbing onto her big toe and moving it back and forth. “Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, twisting onto her back and scooting up the bed, “it’s just one of those days, you know? I’m not usually this miserable.”

“I know, but it’s okay to have bad days, love.”

“Come here,” she tells him, crooking her fingers and motioning toward him before she turns on her side and wraps her arms around her pillow. He does as she asks, kicking off his sneakers and crawling up into the bed, the mattress moving against his weight until he’s pressed up behind her, his knee stuck between her thighs and his arm wrapped around her waist while the other rests above her head. This is how she’s been comfortable lately, and he can’t say he minds. “Did you guys get a lot done?”

“Aye, it’s almost all finished.” He moves her hair off of her neck, placing a kiss there before resting his chin on her shoulder. “It just needs your finishing touches, I think.”

“And we have to unpack all of the boxes that are in the guest room and put them away in the closet.” “That too, but we’ve got time, Emma.” She hums, and he can feel the vibrations as well as Andy moving around under his touch, the movements following how he taps his fingers. “Has he been active today?”

“Not since I woke up, but he always responds to your voice.” “Yeah, he recognizes me?”

“Of course, you talk so damn much. How could he not?”

He turns his head and presses a kiss against her jaw, biting a bit just to tease her. “You are not a very nice woman, my love.”

“Oh please, I’m, like, the seventh nicest person you know.”

“Seventh?”

“I figured it was conceited to put me at number one.”

“Possibly.” He moves his hand against her stomach again, snaking his fingers up under her pajama top so that he can feel the warmth of her skin. “So he really does get more active when I talk?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird to think about, but it’s true. He likes when you talk. I think it’s because you’re a much better story teller than me.” “I mean, obviously.”

“And that he’s probably just glad to hear someone else besides me. Imagine being stuck with someone for nine months. Good God.”

“Well, I’m stuck with you for forever. Good God.”

She groans and curses him under his breath before she scoots over and turns in his arms, slowly but surely moving to face him. “Don’t be an asshole. Also, so I was talking to mom today, and she wants to be called Mimi. I think Dad wants to be called Papa, which I like as long as that’s not what you want. I know that’s what some kids call their dads.”

“Aye, it’s what Lizzie calls Liam, which is weird since Alex doesn’t do that. But I’m okay with dad or daddy, so David can be called Papa.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it. Mimi and Papa. And then your parents are Gammy and Grandpa, right? That’s what Alex and Lizzie call them.”

“Aye, but I know Mom didn’t want to be Gammy. It’s just what happened. She says it makes her feel old.”

“Your mom is not old.”

“I know, but considering your parents are barely fifty while my parents are in their sixties and seventies, it doesn’t help.”

“I’ll tell my parents to get older then.”

He smiles at her before closing his eyes and settling into his pillow, letting his head sink down into the softness. It’s calming in here, the lights turned off and curtains closed while the ceiling fan hums a steady rhythm above them. He could fall asleep like this even if he’s not the biggest fan of naps, always somehow ending up groggy when he wakes up, and it doesn’t help with the way that Emma is playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers scratching into his scalp.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

He pops an eye open, looking at Emma and smiling when her nail hits a particularly sensitive spot on his neck. “Aye, I’ve got the Investiture ceremony at ten. Why?”

“Just wondering. I was thinking we could go somewhere. Just us. Maybe take Indy to Berkshire and let her run around, spend some time outside.” “We can do it in the afternoon, if you want. I think the weather is supposed to be nice.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning forward and sliding her lips over his for a brief moment, “I think that would be nice.”

The next day after he’s finished with the ceremony, he hurries home, changing out of his suit and into shorts and a t-shirt, slipping a baseball cap onto his head and grabbing something to eat for lunch while Emma does the same, her hair falling out of the back of her hat in a long ponytail. They’ve got all day, but the afternoon’s weather is pleasant enough that he’d like to go now so they can stop by a café for dinner, even if that’s the absolute last thing that Thomas will want them to do.

They want their privacy, but they should be able to go out to dinner.

So he and Emma load up into his car, letting Indy sit in the backseat with the window rolled down so she can feel the mid-July breeze blow through her fur. It doesn’t take long to get to Windsor, pulling into their parking garage less than thirty minutes later, and instead of going inside like they’d usually do, he hooks Indy up to her leash while Emma grabs some water bottles and they head to the private gardens, avoiding the visitors wandering around on tours.

As much as he prefers the spring, mild July days are near the top of his list of favorite things. Everything is brighter, more pleasant. The grass is actually greener, the flowers contrasting against their background to create a landscape of whites and shades of purple, while everything is covered in a clear blue sky, only a few white clouds scattered throughout. New life blooms, and he gets to be the one to appreciate it, to revel in it. England can be so dreary sometimes, the weather somehow reflecting the moods of most people on their morning commute to work, so he appreciates when it’s not. He’s always loved the outdoors, and if there’s any complaint he has about his home, it’s the small private garden that they have to themselves. He’d like something larger, more space to run around, and sometime in the future, he and Emma plan to spend more time in Bucklebury so that they have the privacy.

That’s what they’ve decided on since returning from Spain last month. There’s been more lengthy, draining discussions with his parents and their security team than he’s ever wanted, and as much as he feels like they haven’t really accomplished anything, he knows it’s a slow process. Of course, there are drawbacks to every positive. They’re still going to have to spend most of their time at Kensington. It’s closer to their work, to their families. Hell, Emma’s parents just bought a house so that they could have the ability to spend time with their grandchild, and now they’re going to move away from them. It’s less than an hour drive, but it’s not nearly as close as they currently are.

But everyone understands, and they don’t plan on moving any time soon, not until Andy’s a bit older. They want to be near all of their loved ones when he’s younger, and they’ve spent so much time working on their home, making it exactly how they want. It’d be difficult to leave full time, so it’ll be nice to have the option of both.

It’ll be even nicer to give Andy the most normal life that they can possibly give him.

Emma whistles next to him, her fingers between her lips, while Indy runs back to them from where they let her loose. She was about five seconds away from jumping into a pond full of fish, and as much as they’d usually let her swim, they don’t need to have a wet dog with them for the rest of the day. So she runs back to them as quickly as she can, her legs leaping in the air with her black and white fur bouncing the slightest bit. He’s convinced that she shouldn’t be able to be that quick, but she’s still just a young dog, less than a year old, and though her legs will get longer, he doesn’t think she’ll ever be full of this much energy again.

If she is, he and Emma are definitely in over their heads.

With the dog.

He’s going to choose to not think of what it’ll be like with a toddler than can run and a dog that he can run after.

After she calms from her almost pond dive, Indy walks along in front of the two of them, occasionally wandering off the stone path to sniff around in the plants, nearly tearing up several flowers until they call her back to keep walking. They stay wandering for a little over two hours, not caring where exactly they’re going or if they’re circling back around in the same spots. Indy and Emma get tired around the same time, so they settle down onto a stone bench with a patio cover that’s next to another small pond.

In the distance, he can see the Chapel where they were married, the steeple rising up above the other buildings and stone walls, and he smiles to himself thinking of that day. In the grand scheme of things, he knows that when it comes to he and Emma, as important as it was, they had so many smaller, inconsequential days that he holds just as fondly in his heart.

But that was a pretty damn good day.

He stretches his arm out over the back of the bench, wrapping it around Emma’s shoulder and tangling his fingers into the ends of her ponytail while she leans her head on his shoulder, the bill of her hat hitting him in the chin for a brief moment. He’s glad she suggested them getting away from London for a little bit, for suggesting that they change up the routine and spend a day enjoying summer, especially since they’re missing out on Scotland with the rest of the family.

A month in the same place as everyone is likely a bit long, anyways. He loves his family, but that’s a lot for anyone.

“I love you, you know?” Emma asks out of nowhere, her gaze never falling away from the rippling of the water in front of them, a fish leaping up out of the water while the lily pads float around.

He squeezes her shoulder, rubbing up and down her arm and kissing her head even if she can’t feel it through the hat. “I know. I love you too.”

#second in command #cs ff #cs fic #captain swan fic

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a-gay-bloodmage · 6 years ago

Text

—Disaster—

Pairing: Josephine Montilyet x Female Adaar

Pairing Type: F/F

Words: 1,692

Warnings: Clark Kent and Lois Lane but make it Gay, Hopelessly in Love with a Beautiful Femme, Hopelessly in Love with a Beautiful Butch, Even More Sweetness and Shenanigans

"Lady Adaar?" Semiha groaned as a knock on her door sounded. "Please, Inquisitor, I would not disturb you if it were not urgent!"

"I'll be back," she sighed, giving Josephine a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up. Of course some messenger would interrupt them during one of the few moments she could drag her Ambassador away from her work. She buttoned up her blouse and walked down the stairs to the door.

"Thank you," the messenger sighed when she opened the door. He was covered in mud and straw, and smelled like a barn. "We have a bit of a situation on our hands, Herald." She raised a white eyebrow. "We don't know how, and we don't know why, but... the livestock, they... got... out." He was quiet, obviously embarrassed that he'd have to bother the Inquisitor with such a thing.

"Livestock?" She almost laughed. "How many?"

"All of them, Herald," he said in an embarrassed whisper, running a hand through his messy hair. "Again, we don't know how."

"Alright, I'm guessing you want my help getting them contained?" She asked.

"No, no, I just wanted to inform-!"

She shook her head, smiling. It'd been far too long since she got to use some of her strength in the activities she had grown up with. Being a battlemage was fun, sure, but it wasn't as intense a workout as powerlifting heffers. And with half the men of the Inquisition off dealing with something Semiha had already forgotten the details about, that only meant more for her.

"Josie!" She called out into her room as she shooed the messenger away. She bounded up the stairs and ran to her dresser to find her most beat up clothing. "We've got a bit of a situation, it seems," she said as she pulled on a pair of stained beige leggings. "Livestock got out!" She laughed, struggling a little to pull on a qunari-sized work breastband.

"What?" Josephine sounded panicked. "How did the livestock get out? Did someone attack Skyhold?"

"No idea," Semiha shrugged, smiling. "All I know is that we have to fix it!"

"This is a disaster!" She looked over to Semiha, and huffed at her grin. "How are you happy about this?"

"My dear, darling Josephine," Semiha laughed, walking over to the panicked Antivan and kissing her on the forehead. "I was raised on a farm in the Marches. I know a thing or two about corralling animals."

"I did forget about that," she said, looking a little embarrassed. "But still, this is a mess, my Lady!"

"I don't deny it's messy," Semiha grinned, reaching down and grabbing Josephine's hand. "But it could be fun chasing 'em down!"

"You and I have very different definitions of fun, my Lady," she sighed.

Semiha hummed in agreement, smiling as they walked out of her room. Immediately, they were nearly tripped by a goat running frantically through the hall.

"Watch and learn, Princess!" She laughed, letting go of Josephine's hand and running after the animal.

• • ♡ • •

"My Lady!" Josephine sighed, running after the qunari the best she could in her dress. The woman had incredibly long legs. This entire situation was horribly less than ideal. With Cassandra in Orlais talking with Chantry and most of their soldiers on field missions in the surrounding area, there was hardly anybody available to deal with this.

"Got one!" Semiha's joyful voice rang out, and Josephine sighed when she saw the qunari lifting a squirming goat over her head. "Bad goat," she cooed, looking the thing in its strange brown eyes. "Naughty, naughty little goat!" Okay, that was cute.

"My Lady, you're going to get filthy," Josephine said, jogging to catch up with Semiha's walking speed.

"So?" The qunari just laughed. "You've seen me coming back from missions! I think my clothes contain enough mud to build a hut, Josie," she said, smiling as she adjusted the goat in her arms.

"I... I cannot argue with that," she said, defeated. The qunari was always coming back covered in filth from the simplest of missions, armor weighed down with water and dirt. However, that also meant that afterwards, she would be sparkling from a bath, her beautiful, silvery-white afro catching the sunlight, her skin like polished silver, and her horns like glittering onyx.

"Got'cha!" Semiha's laugh pulled Josephine from her thoughts. She scooped up another loose goat in the throne room, and proudly held one under each of her muscular arms. "Come on, let's get to the pens to toss 'em in," she said, smiling down at Josephine, who was completely overwhelmed. "Don't be so stressed," she smiled, "your family was big in the Antivan navy, yes?" Josephine nodded. "Then think of this like a mutiny!" She said, far too cheerfully for the comparison. "Except minus the whole armed and muscular sailors and with cute little farm animals instead!"

Okay, now she could see the comparison more clearly. They stepped outside into the main courtyard, and witnessed the group of inexperienced soldiers and staff attempting to ease the almost comical chaos.

"I am not getting involved," said an annoyed voice from beside them. Dorian.

"Come on, can't you raise the dead or something?" Semiha asked, the two squirming goats held securely under her arms. "Get your little necro-friends to do the work!"

"That takes time and precision and desire to, Inquisitor," he said, leaning against the wall. "And besides, Bull seems to be enjoying himself." He gestured to the courtyard, and heard a joyous shout followed by the Chargers, all with varying animals in their hands as they dragged them back to their pens by the stables. By the hidden softness of his tone, it was clear that Bull was the reason he was most concerned with.

"Hey, Boss!" Bull yelled, grinning. He was holding a particularly heavy calf in his arms.

"I'm joining!" Semiha yelled back, a grin splitting her beautiful face. "Come on, Josie!"

"But I'm wearing-" She huffed, pulling off her dress, stripping down to the leggings she wore beneath and her thin, strap-sleeved shirt. "If you aren't going to get into the mud, do be a dear and put this in my chambers," she said, handing her heavy silk dress over to Dorian. "I'm coming, my Lady!" She called out, quickly stepping down the stairs.

"Fuck yeah!" Bull yelled, clenching his fists in excitement. "Nice of you to join us!"

Semiha just smiled and told her to lift with the knees.

• • ♡ • •

The fact that Semiha was a mage and yet looked like that was a crime.

Josephine could hardly concentrate on holding onto squirming little piglets when she'd look over and see that beautiful qunari woman, bending over in those tight leggings, that qunari breastband doing nothing but holding those large, perfect breasts in place. Her white-silver, tightly curled hair bounced around her horns as she moved, every frizzy hair seeming to catch the sun like she was weaved of silver. Every one of her muscles flexed under that glistening silver skin in the afternoon sun as she easily hefted giant animals over her head. She could go toe-to-toe with the Iron Bull, something Josephine honestly hadn't expected. Then again, she only saw her at Skyhold, soft and sweet in her chambers, and not on the battlefield.

The tiny pig she was holding snorted and tried to escape her grip, and she struggled to keep a hold on the slippery little thing.

"You holding up well, Princess?" Semiha asked, far too casually for someone able to so gently hold a heffer like a lapdog.

"Ah, yes, my Lady," she said, smiling despite the ache in her back. They had been giving her all the small and docile animals she could either carry or lead back to the pens. "I think I'm actually having fun!" She was. Despite the mud in her nice shoes, and the sweat, and the smell of animals, she was having fun. Semiha would constantly sneak up on her, gabbing her waist with her muddy hands, and laughing when she jumped. It was always followed by a kiss on her sweat-slicked neck and a how're they treating you? so it was quite alright.

"Good to hear!" Semiha smiled, her hand on Josephine's shoulder. Most women would be threatened by a large grey hand on their bare skin, but Josephine doubted they would be so frightened if they knew how gentle such hands could be. "It's just you left," she said. "That little piglet was evading Blackwall for a solid five minutes," she laughed, looking down at the offending piglet, who seemed to pride itself on its drawing out of their involuntary little game. She walked Josephine to the pen, and the giant mama pig seemed quite happy to have all her babies back by her side.

"I do think a bath is in order," Josephine said, leaning her back against the wooden fencing. Semiha was leaning forward, elbows resting on the wood, her breastband loose from the physical labor of the day, leaving her chest nearly free, unbound against her ribcage.

Semiha looked over at her, raising a thick white-silver eyebrow and smiling softly. "You say that like we'd be sharing one," she said knowingly.

"Well, it was an idea I had, yes," Josephine said, slightly flushed.

"I think my chambers' tub is big enough if we squeeze," Semiha said, leaving the fence and wrapping a large arm around Josephine's form.

"I am not opposed to this squeezing," Josephine said back, resting her head on Semiha's chest, one hand resting on the arm around her shoulders.

Blackish blush was visible on Semiha's cheeks as Josephine accepted. She smiled, shaking her head a little, her white-silver hair bouncing with the motion. She quickly scooped Josephine up with one easy motion. "Squeezing it is," she said, laughing quietly to herself. Josephine noticed that Semiha held her with the same tenderness as a calf, as if she too was plagued by weak knees and could crumble at the slightest ill touch. She realized that around Semiha, she was, and the comparison didn't bother her at all.

#femslashfeb2019 #semiha adaar #josephine montilyet #josephine x inquisitor #fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #original content #da inquisitor #i like this!! shenanigans!!#butches and femmes........... so good. so so good.

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juminly · 6 years ago

Text

Pure Bliss (Jumin x MC Angst)

First time writing an angst post so I’m kinda nervous about it.

It was requested by @bat-yo-us ! This is for you <3

Also thought I’d contribute again to Day 5: Emotions/Strings of @juminweek

Hope you all enjoy it ( *’ω’* ) ! Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think of it.

---------

It was a Saturday and Driver Kim’s day off.

Jumin had an urgent meeting that popped up and he got slightly flustered. MC noticed just by noticing a slight crease between his eyebrows and offered to drive him. It wouldn’t be the first time that she drove with Jumin and it certainly made him feel safe as he trusts her driving. Jumin always had an issues with riding taxis cause he would call them “crazy” and “unruly” drivers. Jumin has high standards in most things in his life and MC was glad that she was able to meet his standards.

The first time he rode with her in the car, he had his fist clenched on his seatbelt tightly, eyes darting from one side window to another and all the cars driving around, while still trying to keep his composure and not lose his cool. MC had kept silent the entire time and let her smooth driving speak for itself. Jumin then determined that he is secure with only two people: Driver Kim and MC. It was a complete different story when he travelled around the world.

MC: - runs to Jumin and hugs him from behind, giving him a light kiss on the back of his neck - I’ll go warm up the car now, my love. I’ll be waiting for you.

Jumin: - smiles softly as a tingling feeling runs up his neck, turns his head back as he adjusts his tie, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek - How can I ever repay you for all that you do for me, princess?

MC: - speaks as she walks to the door - Promise me that you’ll love me for as long as we both shall love. Love me with every once of your being. That’s all I want and will ever need.

Although MC already left the room and probably the apartment too, Jumin whispered his promise to give his everything to MC. He also promised himself that he would try to find more ways to show his love to her.

After getting dressed and arranging his briefcase, he head down to the lobby where MC was all ready for him. He got in the car and sighed loudly, whipping out his tablet to go through his notes.

MC: What’s wrong my love? - brushes her index lightly on his cheek, he directly took her hand in his, kissed it then she pulled back and put her hand back on the steering wheel - That was quite a heavy sigh…

Jumin: - smiles a bit sadly, knowing you can’t see his expression - I shall not accept such frivolous behaviour again. I have informed my clients and my employees that these sudden requests should be processed through the right channels to avoid such inconveniences from happening. This is nothing I am not able to handle. I shall deal with this as soon as possible so we can spend the rest of the day off together. Do we have a deal?

In the same moment, Jumin kept his true thoughts to himself and was thinking; "What did I ever do in this life to deserve such a wonderful woman?

I look at her and I feel like I want to love her with all that I am and it still wouldn’t be enough. She has given a new sense to my life that I never have hoped or wished to have. I want to be enough for her… Spoil her more… Spend more time with her… Maybe even… have children."

MC: I can never turn down a deal given to me by Mr. Jumin Han.

Jumin: Well I have another deal for you now. I need something to relax me before that meeting, so can you sing for me until we get there? Maybe then… I’ll consider making you Mrs. Jumin Han. - strikes his sexy half-smile -

MC: - giggles loudly - You don’t need to bribe me with marriage so I’d sing for you Jumin. - shakes head, clears throat -

As Jumin focus on the notes written on his tablet, MC’s voice started filling up around the car. She softly and endearingly sang a song of no specific language, which she would specifically choose so that he wouldn’t get distracted with the words, in her own sweet tone. Her voice… is all what Jumin needs to drain out all the anxiety and stress from him. Her voice would unwind him so much, he wanted to leave all his work and spend hours just listening to the voice of his beloved. It was pure bliss. She was his seraphic beauty. Inside and out.

She suddenly shouts “ NO!!!” takes him in her arms forcefully when everything suddenly went dark.

—————

Jumin wakes up feeling groggy while hearing a very annoying beeping sound. The smell of antibacterial and cleanliness suffocated him and he instantly knew where he was before opening his eyes wide. He was in a hospital, in a room that was so white it almost blinded him. He noticed V stood up from a chair at the end of the room and walked closer to the bed Jumin was on.

V: Thank God, you’re finally awake. I was afraid I’d lose you.

Jumin: Wh-… - clears throat, swallowing very hard -

V: Oh.. Here you go. - passes him a glass of water -

Jumin: - drinks the water and wince in pain as swallowing felt a bit too difficult. Taking a look down at his legs, one of them was in a cast - What happened? Why am I here? And where is MC?

V: - sighs - Please calm down Jumin, okay? You were in a car accident and had a light concussion. It seems like you have short-term memory loss for now from the shock, but everything will come back to you. You sustained a minor fracture in your tibia. The orthopedist will determine the state of your recovery.

Jumin: V… Where. Is. MC?

V: I… can’t say.. I..

Jumin: If you won’t tell me, then I’ll find someone else who will! - starts pressing all the buttons on the side of his bed frantically -

V: Jumin, please listen to me…

Jumin: I will not listen to anymore lies from you! - trembles with anger - Tell me where is my MC? - clenches his fist on the side of the bed so that he won’t physically lash out on his best friend - That is all I ask for! She would’ve been here if she knew I was here! She should be here V!

V: - internally freaks out as he has never seen Jumin lose his composure this fast or ever in his life - Jumin. - V, usually so soft and calm, raises his voice so that he can catch Jumin’s attention - I cannot speak if you won’t listen to me. - leans closer, holding his shoulders, pressing his forehead on Jumin’s - Breathe with me first and I promise I’ll tell you everything.

Jumin: - his rapid breathing calms down slowly and he lets his best friend push him back down on the bed. As V stepped away from the bed, Jumin clasped his hand tightly and pulled him close to the bed - You’re hiding something from me, V. I’ve known you since we were children and I know that look on your face. Please. I beg you.

V: - swallows, nodding. He couldn’t stand looking into Jumin’s blood-shot eyes so he looked away and spoke softly looking at the wall and back at Jumin - MC was with you in the accident Jumin. You don’t remember because of the concussion and possibly from the shock you are experiencing. There was a drunk driver that crashed into the side of your car, according to the police. Their analysis states that she didn’t have time to avoid the crash so she protected you… so MC took most of the blow.

Jumin: What… What do you mean she protected me V!? Do not speak to me in riddles. Where is she now?!

V: - bites lip with frustration and growing dread - She’s still in surgery. She threw herself at you before the cars could even collide. One of her arms is broken. But the problem is… - looks at Jumin sadly - She broke a few ribs and they punctured a few organs. There was some extensive internal bleeding…

Jumin: I don’t believe this… How can she be so reckless? Why would she protect me? I… - closes eyes, throwing hands to cover his face, trying to breathe - Please tell me she is going to live… I want… I need her.. with me.

V: Last I heard, they were closing up. - puts his hand on Jumin’s wrist - Jumin, please have faith that she will be okay. We will hear back from the surgeon’s any minute now. - V pulls Jumin’s hand away from his face - Can you manage to… - stops as he sees tears falling across his best friend’s face - I’ll… I’ll go get the news myself.

V was not able to contain himself either. He had never seen Jumin in such a state before, so broken and hopeless. He ran to find anyone who can update him on MC.

Meanwhile, Jumin stared at the ceiling, feeling pathetic, hopeless and helpless. With a broken tibia, he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk for a while. If it were up to him, he’d barge into the operating room just to see MC’s chest going up and down with every breath she took. He didn’t even bother wiping the tears on his face. What was the point? He couldn’t even be the one to protect the one he loved and there she was… fighting for her life, because of him.

“ What have I ever done for her, to deserve what she has done for me? She was willing to give her life to me, so willingly, so selflessly… I always told her she is way too pure hearted for her own good. I wish she would’ve been more selfish. I wish I told her… all the things I wanted to say… It might be too late. “

V storms into his room and tells him that they have just placed her in the ICU. By the time the anesthesia wears off, she would wake up. As stubborn as he was, Jumin ordered that he be transferred into the same room as MC and would pay any cost to be placed right next to her, to be there when she woke up.

—————

The moment MC opened her eyes, Jumin was right beside her, seated on a wheel chair. He rolled closer to her and took her hand and squeezed it. MC opened her mouth slowly while wincing and Jumin placed his index on his lips, gesturing to her not to speak.

Jumin: Please rest, princess. You have been through a lot… - wiped a stray tear that fell from his eyes, as he was so happy to finally look into her eyes - You know… You’re my hero. - chuckles wryly as he sees her smile faintly - You saved me from death. You fought death for me and then you had to fight it for yourself. It seems like God must want us to still be together cause we are both miraculously… no, thanks to you… we are still here. - places her hand back on the bed, kisses her hand, and each and every finger before resting his head on it - I won’t ask you to forgive me.. Because I can’t…

The nurses came in the room and had to remove some of the machines off MC and make sure she’s hydrated and drinking water. MC was clearly so tired as she would just shake her head yes or no whenever someone spoke to her. After all the procedures with the nurses, she closed her eyes as fell asleep.

MC woke up feeling much better and felt something warm on her lap. Jumin had apparently fallen asleep on the wheel chair with his head on her lap. She knew how he always loved to watch her when she slept. She couldn’t sit up, so she just reached a bit further to reach Jumin’s hair and play with it. It was her own way of waking him up without startling him. He opened his eyes and started blinking his drowsily, smiling sleepily. He saw MC move her mouth but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He sat up as he looked at MC while he saw her eyes widen in a mixture of panic and horror.

Jumin: MC, what’s wrong? Tell me! - holds her hand down tightly -

MC kept moving her mouth and no sound would come out of her. The silence was heavy with her screams and shouts. Her face became flooded with tears as it registered both in her mind and Jumin’s but they both didn’t say anything. MC started thrashing in her own mute helplessness, panic ruling over all her senses. Jumin, pushed himself with all the strength he could muster to throw himself off onto her bed, and embrace MC. He kept whispering words of comfort in her ears “MC, please breathe. Look at me. Everything is going to be okay, I promise? Do you believe me? I promise I will make everything for you. Don’t be afraid. I’m not gonna leave you for a second from now on.” Jumin struggled to keep his voice under control, from trembling and cracking. Just like he felt inside, slowly breaking on the inside. He held her tightly in her arms as he continued to calm her, she had fallen asleep within minutes to his own surprise and shock.

He threw himself back in his chair and rolled to the first physician he saw in the hallway and hailed for the best doctor, surgeon in the damn country to come see what was wrong with his MC.

The diagnosis was clear. It was vocal chord paralysis. In MC’s case, it was irreversible and she would never be able to speak again, except another miracle took place… Jumin couldn’t think of that any longer… If anything, he believed he was a curse and he was responsible for what happened to his princess.

—————

After informing MC of the final diagnosis, MC had already accepted her fate and knew what they were going to say before they said it. She refused to go through the same panic that she did and she wanted to be strong for Jumin. She saw how broken he was just by looking at him. There were dark circles around his eyes and the frown between his eyebrows would not leave his face. His eyes were blood-shot from the tears that he has shed and hid from her, and those that were still unshed. His voice grew horse with the growing sadness within him. "How can I make him understand that… I don’t regret what I have… I would do it all over again… It’s not your fault…”. She couldn’t help but start crying at all the words she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

Jumin: My love… - brushes his index softly on her cheek, wiping away the tears - I’m sorry.

MC: - mouthes slowly - Jumin. - shakes head - Not. - points at him - Your. Fault.

Jumin: MC… You don’t un- - he bites his lips as she lifts a finger to shut him up, sniffing as the tears continue to stream down her face -

MC: - mouthes to him - I - places hand on her heart - Love. You. - places her hand on his heart, smiling softly through her tears -

Jumin: I love you most. - takes her hand and kisses the inside of her palm - I will love you for as long as we both shall live. I promise. - he smiled as he felt her wipe the tears of his face -

There is nothing more in this life that he would miss more than her soft voice… and those three words.

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yerkesdodsonlaw · 6 years ago

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Reunion: Having Avoided Her Progenitor For Several Years, Melantha Finally Cuts Her Losses And Returns Home.

A figure emerges from the shadows, clad in a long black cloak like Death Herself. Her hood obscures her face, but the light of the moon reflects off her eyes like two strange, silver coins in the darkness. There is a vast, sprawling mansion set deep in the woods where she stands.

She is stalling.

She melts back into the shadows and watches the house. To the untrained eye, it looks abandoned, though well maintained. The windows are obscured by heavy curtains and for a moment she tries to convince herself that there is nobody home, but she knows he is there. She can feel him, which means he can feel her, and he knows she is stalling.

She approaches the door with a knot of dread in her stomach and catches a glimpse of her reflection in the darkened window. Her jaw clenches and she forces herself not to look away. How did this happen? she asks herself, uselessly. She knows damn well how it happened. Hiding out in the woods and subsisting on a starvation diet of wild animals inevitably takes a toll. She raises her fist and knocks on the door before she can talk herself out of it.

It swings open almost immediately, like he had been standing there waiting for her. His eyes are wide but he does an admirable job keeping his face blank as he looks at her, and there is silence. A tense silence as they both regard each other and stubbornly refuse to be the first one to break.

She breaks.

“Cassius.” Her progenitor. Her creator. It’s just his name, but it’s enough. He pulls her inside and closes the door behind them before turning to face her again, eyes burning.

“Where the hell have you been?” It had been years. Cassius still looked the same, of course. Annoyingly beautiful, almost human-like except for his pallor and strange eyes. Annoyingly beautiful, like she used to be. Like she should be. She shrugs off her hood and he grabs her arm, pulling her closer to him. “God, Melantha. Look at you. What the hell happened? I went to your house--”

The house. Melantha almost shudders. She left the house, or whatever remained of it, left that smoldering pile of rubble and did not look back.

“You look terrible,” Cassius adds, which snaps her out of her reverie to glare at him. “You look starved. Jesus.” And that she was. The animals she hunted kept her strong enough to function, but her body was weakened and wasting away for want of human blood.

“Thank you for that astute observation.” Cassius was expecting some kind of explanation, and Melantha was resisting as long as possible. There is a hollow ache in her chest that worsens every time she looked at him. She makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away but he tightens his grip. How irritating. At her full strength, she could have easily overpowered him, but now she is forced to concede.

“I thought you were dead.” His voice is accusatory with concern masked as rage. She does not meet his eye.

“You would know if I were dead. You would be able to feel it.” She felt it. She still feels it.

“Tell me what happened,” he orders.

“What do you think?” she deflects. She knows she can’t avoid this forever, but she can damn well try. “I was attacked. I escaped. Here I am.” Skipping over a few years in the middle there. Cassius releases his grip on her, and she silently begs him not to ask the question she can see forming in his mind. But he asks.

“Where is your coven?” It’s like a punch to the chest. Four punches, four holes torn through her lungs. She still feels it, like the pain of four phantom limbs that were ripped from her body and burned.

“They did not escape.” Melantha jumps on the defensive before Cassius has a chance to respond. “Don’t you dare say anything about it. Don’t tell me you warned me, I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

“I did warn you,” Cassius says flatly. He shakes his head. “For God’s sake, do you see now? Your goddamn hubris almost got you killed.”

Melantha’s hands clench into fists at her sides.

“They cannot kill me. I think I’ve proven that by now.”

“Right. As long as you have an obedient coven you can sacrifice, bodies to stand in the way while you make your daring escape. Was that your plan?” She swings her fist at him but he catches her wrist before she can make contact. “Did they know they were expected to die for you?”

“Stop.” She squeezes her eyes shut as a surge of magic flows through her and Cassius drops her wrist like he’s been burned. But in her weakened state, even the smallest bit of magic is draining; she leans against the wall and keeps her eyes closed. “Shut up. Don’t you dare speak of them.” She waits for Cassius to retaliate but is met with silence. When she opens her eyes, he has stepped back and is looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“Why are you here?” he finally asks. “You ignore me for years, act like you’re so much better off without me, and now you come crawling back when you need my help?”

She holds out her hands; silent, empty. I have nothing else. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Oh, I would love to.” Cassius sighs and runs his fingers through his hair; a human affectation of stress. “Fine. Stay here. I’ll go hunt for you.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “We can fight about this later when you’ve gotten your strength back.”

“Mm. You better wipe that smug look off your face before I do.” She does not thank him, does not apologize, but touches his arm in silent appreciation. He rolls his eyes and rings a bell to summon a member of his staff. A human thrall appears in the doorway, looking only momentarily surprised at the presence of Melantha in the foyer. Cassius and his thrall exchange brief words before Cassius is gone and Melantha is whisked into the care of the household staff.

Melantha had spent so long in isolation that the sudden presence of humans, even humans enthralled to Cassius, makes her skin crawl. She does not relax until she is alone in the bathroom, laying in a lavish tub neck-deep in hot, perfumed water. She closes her eyes and leans back until her head was submerged and she could hear nothing but the muted pressure of the water surrounding her. Her body is running on empty; there is no energy to spare on useless human affectations like tears. But she feels that burning in the back of her throat nonetheless. She opens her eyes and stares up at the ceiling, water distorting her vision. She will pull herself together in a moment, before Cassius returns. She only needs a moment.

#here's a bit of my writing #wip #writeblr #etc #sorry idk how to make the format less shitty #it looks better in my google doc #also i wrote this mostly at work and did not fully proofread so i'm sure i messed up some tenses somewhere #but we're living in the moment

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silviasutton1989 · 7 years ago

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The First Kiss (Drake X Riley)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hello all! Ok so I have been pretty busy with my life I haven't been able to post all my stories individually yet. After that wild ending we had last week I changed my mine about one of the chapters I had already written. Instead this is MY VISION of Drake and Riley’s first kiss. Tagging @everythingchoices @choicesfanficlibrary

WORD COUNT: about 2000 but a fast read

RATING: T (THIS IS PRETTY FLUFF)

The Royal Engagement Celebration for King Liam and his betrothed Lady Madeline was the talk of the town. Long black limos lined the driveway as nobles wearing beautiful gowns and dignified uniforms filled the brightly lighted palace. As Riley walks her way up the staircase towards the entrance, she cannot help but feel the scornful eyes that watch her with each step she makes. She places her hands in front of her to steady her nerves. Bertrand kept Maxwell behind in the limo to have a private talk, leaving Riley to face her first public appearance since the Tariq scandal alone. The royal dining hall ways beautifully decorated. The Navy blue and gold trimmed curtains hung throughout the room. They coordinated perfectly with the two long tables that were parallel to each other, and the seats waiting for their guests. It was the sight of all this that distracted Riley from the onlookers.

The Cordonian fanfare begins to play as King Constantine and Queen Regina enter the hall. The nobles all watch in silence as they make their way to their table which lay at the end between the two longer ones. With a wave of his hand the music fades and King Constantine greets his masses with a smile. His voice booms throughout the large room.

“Good Evening All! Tonight we will send off my son, our King, Liam and his beautiful bride to be off on their Royal Tour.”

Constantine makes a deep laugh that allows the crowd to laugh along with him. With a nod of his head the Royal fanfare begins and Liam and Madeline enter the room. Riley holds her breath as she watches the couple walk to the table. Her teeth clench together, at the sight of them. To the rest of the crowd the two looked beautiful, perfect even. But Riley knew there was no love between them and although she, herself could not yet fully understand what her feelings where for Liam; she did know he deserved to be standing next to someone who loved him. Anyone but Madeline. Liam looks through the crowd spotting Riley instantly. They share a look together both trying to convey paragraphs of questions to the other through their eyes. He blinks away his thoughts and realizing where his he looks at Madeline and then back to the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. As we begin our journey together we wanted this to be a night filled with support and love from our friends and family. Please help me in honoring our future Queen.” He then begins to lean into Madeline. Although it seemed at first he was aiming for her check, with one quick movement of Madeline and he lands on her lips. The crowd erupts in applause. Riley’s stomach begins to turn. It wasn’t the fact that Liam was kissing Madeline that upset her so much but all the lies the fake relationships that surrounded the whole situation. Madeline was probably the person who framed her in the first place and yet she was becoming Queen, being rewarded for it. That was the part that bothered her the most. As she watches, the heat rising within her grows she clutches her fist at her sides in anger when she feels a hand grabbing her, opening her palm with their fingers lacing them between her own. Whoever was doing this was trying to calm her. She looks up to see Drake, looking at the couple in front of them. He squeezes her hand tightly, and once Liam announces the nobles to sit Drake leads Riley to her seat.

Finally a friend, Riley thought.

“You can thank me later Sutton,” Drake speaks softly into her ear. “You may not have noticed but Madeline did a killer job with this whole shin dig. I have seen royal parties but nothing this grand. Make you think she has been planning this for a while huh? She had you here by yourself the rest of the gang is all the way at the end.”

Riley looks toward the end of the table. She sees Maxwell and Hanna talking amongst themselves.

“I came in a little earlier and switched some cards around. Well really two.”

A smile forms on Riley’s face she was about to ask him why he didn’t just switch her card but is interrupted once Kierra sits on the other side of Drake.

“Bonjour Monsieur Drake...Lady Riley!”

He quickly straightens in his seat. “Hello” He clears his throat, mentally kicking himself for not looking at the name card next to the one he swapped.

“Drake I didn’t know you would be seating next to me. Madeline was très prudente about the seating arraignments tonight.”

Drake nervously looks at his plate and quickly Kierra realizes what he has done. She gasps, “Oh you naughty boy… you did this just to sit next to me?” A light chuckle leaves her and she places a hand under the table slowly rubbing his lap. Riley watches the display before her. She rolls her eyes and diverts her attention to the stunning fish plate sitting in front of her. She picks at it with her fork. Any other day she would have devoured the dish but today her stomach just couldn’t handle it. After a couple more dishes Kierra’s advances became more and more bolder. By the final course she had scooted her chair closer to Drake, feeding him a small portion of her Chocolate Mousse.

The lady sitting next to Riley leans in to her and with a light giggle she states, “Looks like we will be having another wedding to celebrate soon enough.” She raises her glass towards Drake and Kierra and a few nobles who heard her statement do the same. This was all too much for Riley. She, as politely as she could, excuses herself from the table and scurries out of the dining hall. She somehow found her way to an empty hallway. The cool air chills her until someone from behind her drapes a jacket over her shoulder.

“You ok Sutton?” The voice behind her asks. Riley doesn’t bother turning around, mostly because she didn’t want Drake to see her cry she couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation for her tears.

“You should go back to Kierra. You two make a lovely couple.” Riley stress the words “lovely” and somehow Drake got the notion she didn’t quite mean it.

“You know if I didn’t know any better I would think you were jealous. “ He laughs at the thought, leaning his shoulder on the wall, staring at the back of Riley. He waits a while for her to respond with laughter as well and when she doesn’t he straightens, and step in front of her. He needs to see her face.

“Riley are you … jealous?” He searches her eyes for answers and she quickly looks away, turning away from him.

“You never call me Riley, Drake. Don’t start now.” She quickly wipes away her tears.

They hear footsteps coming from the end of the hallway. Drake thinks quickly and pulls Riley into an empty room nearby.

“Why did you do that? What if that is Kierra looking for her boyfriend?” She takes her hand back from Drake staring at the door in front of her but not opening it to leave.

“Well he isn’t in this room so she can still find him.” Drake can’t stop the smile on his face. His jacket is clearly 3 sizes too big for her yet she looks perfect in it. He hears the orchestra beginning to play through the walls.

“It seems that diner is over and they have moved to the dancing portion of the celebration.”

Riley doesn’t respond she continues to stare at the door.

“Hey Sutton, how about a dance?” He walks into the center of the empty room holding his hand out for her to meet him. She turns to look at him. His smile forces her to smile in return and she walks toward him.

“Isn’t this the Cordonian Waltz music? I thought you didn’t waltz?”

“For you I guess I will make an exception.”

They twirl and spin and glide throughout the room to the muffled music. Drake turns her till her back is against him. The scent of her causes him to lose all sense. He holds her like this swaying side to side slowly keeping her there far longer than he knew he should. Riley loses herself as well she doesn’t move from his embrace, it was the most comfort she had felt in a while. She feels his heartbeat quicken against her back. His breath on her ear, she reaches upward to the back of his neck tangling her hands in his hair, pulling his head downward. He lightly rubs his lips on the base of her neck, breathing her in her scent, sending goosebumps throughout her body. Drake pulls her in closer into him oppressing her body into his own still swaying to the music.

“I have to tell you something Sutton. I was going to tell you this the night of the Coronation but I just …I lost my nerve. “ He talks in her ear quietly his voice deep and low. “God I have wanted you for a long time. I can’t get you out of my mind. “

Before he can say anymore Riley turns to face him she wraps her arms around his neck making sure to keep the space between them as closed as possible.

“Drake seeing you with Kierra tonight. I mean I knew I have had feelings for you. ..”She stammers for a moment looking up at Drake she sees a smile form over his face.

“Look I know I’m suppose to be here for Liam. But tonight watching you two with Madeline and Kierra made me feel… I don’t really know but I didn’t like it. And what really upset me wasn't Liam with her, it was you with Kierra .” Drake smile fades as he looks into her glossy brown eyes. “Drake I know I have no grounds saying this but I think I am starting to have feelings for you.”

She press he lips together as she holds her breath waiting for a response. Drake tightens his grip on her waist and he leans her up against the nearest wall. Before either of them move they stare at each other, the air thick with tension and desire. Riley’s breath quickens, she could hardly compose herself with him this close to her. The way he looked at her alone made her heady. Thier mouths so close and open waiting for contact, their breaths intertwining each other.

“God Sutton, you make me feel like I have had 3 glasses of whiskey and I haven’t even kissed you yet.” Drake’s fingers found his way underneath his jacket. Her body was warm to his touch. She shrugs the jacket off her shoulders, placing it on a chair nearby as his calloused thumbs caress her shoulders.

“Well kiss me.”

His open mouth quickly covers hers, kissing her intensely coaxing her with his tongue for her to respond. Lasting forever, the kiss became so consuming that she melted in his arms. She arched her body to his, feeling him grow harder as he rubs gently between her thighs. Riley breaks away from their kiss and begins to suck an open spot on his neck, biting and kissing the spot in hopes her mark will be left on him later. The men and women of Cordonia may not know who left it but at least Kierra would know he was taken even if she didn’t know by who. The deep seeded moans coming from Drake moved her to continue her goal she sucked harder on his neck loosing herself completely in her actions. His hands grip the base of her back. Drake’s thoughts raced in his head. He knew he could quickly unzip her dress, he knew that despite all the commotion in the ballroom not too far away, no one would disptub them, he grips the zipper on her dress holding it between his fingers. But he also knew how he truly felt about Riley. And i was those true feelings for that gave him the strength to take the small step away from her.

“I have to go.” He looks away from her. Confused she straightens herself.

“Um.. ok are you sure? Was it me? I was doing too much wasn’t I …I’m sorry I just kind of lost it there. I—“

He kisses her again stopping her confession. He cups her face with his hands staring into her eyes.

“You are perfect. But I have to go if I stay in here one more minute I might…I have to go.”

With that he is off out the door. The cold air rushes into the room as the door opens Riley lays against the wall allowing it to cool her body.She closes her eyes listening to the music playing in the distance. She closes her eyes and smile reminiscing in the best kiss she she had ever had.

#the royal romance #choice games #choices #drake x mc #trr drake #choices fanfiction #romance

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